Game Theory
by Cheesesack
Summary: The crew of Voyager unknowingly awaken an ancient war criminal, who joins the crew under false pretenses to further his own agenda. As Seven begins to fall for her Captain, she soon finds both herself and the woman she loves caught up in an increasingly nightmarish chain of events from which there seems to be no escape . Janeway/Seven. Rated M for all the usual stuff.
1. Chapter 1: The Tyrant

**Author's Notes:**

Hey there everyone. This is my first Voyager fic, so I hope I've done okay :P I don't have too much to say right now, other than, if you like this first chapter (or even if you don't), please be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think. Thank you, and enjoy :)

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 1 - The Tyrant**

The courtroom was the pride of the Skyrion capital. Set amongst the gleaming spires of the country sized city, the mile-high chamber was encased in stained glass which channelled the light of Vinlor's twin suns into dazzling arrays of shape and colour. Ornate pulpits clung to the inner walls like barnacles, in which the elite and wealthy watched justice being dispensed from their lofty viewpoint. From every ledge hung a scroll detailing the absolute words of law as dictated by the Grand Preceptor during the Ninth Age of Ambiguity. On the floor below, row upon row of carved marble seating now bore the weight of the largest public jury ever to grace the hall; for this was a momentous day that would be remembered for many generations.

This was the day The Enemy was to face trial.

"All rise for the honourable Lord of Sceptres." A clerk's voice cut through the murmurs which filled the room; louder and more venomous than usual, and directed at the solitary figure who sat on a simple metal chair in the centre of the circular judgement floor.

The figure remained seated.

"Did you not hear the command, prisoner." Spat one of the guards, taking a step forward, all four of his hands clenching into fists.

"I heard it well enough." The figure replied coolly, his voice almost tinged with boredom. "But you would be wise not to enforce it. You know as well as I do that these chains can in no way prevent me from killing you."

The guard snarled, and took another step forward, before an order from the presiding judge forced him to back off.

"Let's not worry about the formalities." The court official said as he entered the room and took his place at the top of the monolithic bench. "And you are right; the chains are simply window dressing. It is the arcum field which will keep you in place."

"An arcum field? I'm flattered." The Enemy moved one of his hands experimentally, encountering an impenetrable wall of invisible light a few feet from his body. "Tell me, how many homes are currently without power just to keep this thing running?"

"There are citizens of this city who would gladly die to see you brought to justice. I assure you that a few hours in the dark was a price they were more than willing to pay. In any case, let us begin the trial. I think we would all like it over with as soon as possible."

"This is hardly a trial at all." The seated figure, clearly the accused, retorted. "My guilt has never once been in question in the eyes of your law."

"As is rightfully so." The judge hid his personal opinions behind a stack of papers which he shuffled idly, but it was obvious to everyone in the court that he detested The Enemy as much as any other citizen. "Never in the history of our culture has there been a war criminal who even begins to approach your level of barbarism. Your crimes, and the face behind them, are known throughout all of civilized space. We gather today not to discuss your preposterous claims of innocence, but to decide what punishment is suitably fitting."

"Can't blame me for trying." The figure barked out a harsh, humourless laugh. "So let me guess. You've decided to rescind the ban on public executions simply for my benefit? How awfully sweet of you."

"Death, if the termination of whatever you are can be called death, would be far too kind a sentence." This was met with a few cries of approval from the assembled crowd. "But I'm getting ahead of myself."

Clearing his throat, the magistrate signalled to one of his entourage, who produced a hefty scroll, similar to those which lined the walls.

"The defendant, known only as The Enemy, stands accused of grievous and repeated travesties against the Skyrion empire and its affiliated member states." The clerk's voice easily carried through the entire spire, which had been acoustically designed to amplify the voices of those on the ground floor. "These include but are by no means limited to; the sacking of Realion spaceport, the murder of Princess Azinance, the use of outlawed biological weapons against the colonists of New Palcy, the theft of Imperial war assests, the..."

"Oh stop, please, you're going to make me blush." The Enemy smiled; a mirthless expression which didn't come close to touching his eyes.

"Your irreverence only serves to increase the severity of your sentence."

"There is not a thing you can do to harm me."

"Perhaps." The magistrate conceded. "But we do not need to harm your body to punish you."

He rose from his seat, leaning forward in his pulpit to stare down at the figure below.

"You may not be so mirthful once you hear what we have devised. As soon as your capture was confirmed, our top engineers, some of whose families you yourself have murdered, were tasked with devising a torment that could match the misery you have inflicted on so many countless others."

"I doubt they will be capable of succeeding. If there's one thing I've become quite adept at, it's spreading misery." The figure smirked again, his impossibly shiny teeth catching the light.

"So we are aware." The judge said, before snapping his fingers. "For this reason, you are to be imprisoned in the Eternity Ark. Naturally, the sentence is life, which I assume for you will be quite a long time."

"No vote? Whatever happened to democracy."

"The vote has already been taken. You think we'd risk the possibility of you intimidating the jurors into giving you a lighter sentence? No."

"A wise move. So, tell me...what is this 'Eternity Ark'? It's got an awfully grand name."

The judge's lip curled imperceptibly in a venomous, triumphant snarl.

"Your synthetic nature was what inspired the device. Unlike us mortals, you are capable of remaining conscious indefinitely without any form of sustenance. The Eternity Ark will do just that; suspend you in a state where you are incapable of movement or action of any kind, yet your mind will remain aware. You will be chained forever, with nothing but your own special breed of sadistic insanity for company."

The magistrate keyed a few buttons on his personal control panel, activating a holo-emitter built into the floor of the chamber. Overhead, a blue, translucent image of a perfect cube shimmered into view. Its faces were engraved with a multitude of text and symbols; warnings and details of its occupants crimes.

"Say hello to your new home."

The Enemy stared at the image, and for the first time, he was silent.

* * *

"The time is 0600 hours."

"Already?" Captain Kathryn Janeway mumbled in a defeated tone. She rolled over in bed, stuffing her head into the pillow and running over the checklist of potential excuses she could use to avoid getting up. It was the same thought process she'd gone through every morning for the past month or so, and like always, no matter how much she wanted to just lie there, she knew that in the end, it was her duty to be dressed and on the bridge by 0630.

_It's wrong that I even entertain the possibility._ She chastised herself sternly. _A starship Captain does not slack._

With an enormous force of will that seemed to require more and more effort each day, the Captain opened her eyes and forced her petite frame up onto its elbows.

"Lights."

The harsh glare of a starship's interior illumination assaulted her retinas. She could have asked for a dimmer magnitude, but this was the fastest way to wake herself up; and today, just like every other day, Voyager required her to be 100% alert.

Groggily, she made her way to the bathroom, wondering why it had started taking her half the night to actually doze off. It wasn't like sleeplessness was anything new to her, but these recent weeks had been particularly bad.

"Restless." She said the word aloud, her voice rough, realising it was the best description of how she felt. It wasn't just the lack of sleep, although that was the most obvious symptom; it was everything. No matter where she went, she felt uneasy, like there was something she should be doing or some other place she should be. The area of space they were currently passing through was remarkably quiet, almost boring. There had been nothing of note, either good or bad for...well, for a month.

Janeway felt foolish for seeing that as a negative. After all, no news was good news; a saying which seemed especially true in the delta quadrant since almost all the news was invariably bad. Still, it didn't sit well with the feisty Captain. She liked to act; whether it was making the first move, or reacting to a threat or opportunity, at least it felt like she was playing an active role in expediting their return to Federation space. This waiting frayed at her nerves, and granted her the one thing she really wanted to do without.

Time to think.

Not time to think about ship buisness, she could do with an unlimited amount of that, but time to think about herself; to be introspective. It hadn't always been the case, but Janeway had come to hate looking inwards. She told herself that it was because a Captain couldn't afford to second guess herself. That she must be confident in every aspect of herself for the crew to be able to feel the same. It was true, but that was only part of the reason she disliked it so much. The real reason is that it scared her; something she wasn't used to and which made her extremely uncomfortable. It scared her because every time she looked behind the command mask, every time she checked on Kathryn the woman, and not Janeway the Captain, there was less and less there. It was like the person she'd once been was withering away, until all that would be left was layer after layer of carefully practiced stoicism. She used her Starfleet training to hide her personal emotions from the crew, to allow her to make the tough, sometimes ruthless decisions that were needed to ensure their survival in this hostile quadrant. Problem was, she could see the day approaching when she wouldn't need to hide her inner self because there would be nothing of it left.

"That's Captain Janeway for you." She murmured to herself, surprised by the bitterness in her voice. "A walking, talking version of the Command Handbook."

Perhaps that was unfair. After all, she'd bent plenty of the rules during their time away from the Federation, and ever even straight up broken a few others. While it had taken some time to square those decisions with her conscience, Janeway knew that they had been the right ones. That lack of regret was something that she clung to; like a drowning woman would cling to flotsam in a storm. It was proof that she was still an individual, still able to see beyond the protocol she had memorised and understand the spirit in which it was intended, and when it had to be modified.

As she finished her ablutions and began to get dressed, an image of her astrometrics officer and former Borg drone, Seven of Nine, flashed involuntarily through her mind. Yes, taking Seven with them had been perhaps her most unorthodox violation of Starfleet protocol. In fact, she'd made a point of reviewing every directive against such an action, in some cases multiple times, as if she was guilty that she didn't feel guilty. Yet all it took was one look at the woman Seven had become, and suddenly all those dry, clinically precise lines of text seemed to melt from her memory. She could never regret what she had done, not even in the immediate aftermath, when Seven had been so alone and scared. Even then, she knew that what she was doing was right, and she was immensely thankful that her faith in the woman had not been misplaced. Watching Seven grow as a person was a wondrous experience.

Whoever wrote the official Starfleet guidelines for interaction with a hostile alien race could never have foreseen Janeway's situation, and could certainly never have envisioned the existence of someone like Seven of Nine. The Borg was someone who had to be seen to be believed, in more ways than one. She was brilliantly intelligent, wilfully stubborn, and, perhaps unbeknownst to her, exceptionally beautiful.

Janeway halted her train of thought in its tracks. Whenever she got into these self-analytical moods, her wanderings always seemed to lead back to Seven. The woman had become something of an emblem for the Captain, and, perhaps ironically, was also one of the few people she socialised with on a more personal level. Yet, images and memories of the Borg drone brought with them a strange and terrifying mixture of emotions, like happiness and regret rolled into one. Janeway always forced herself to focus on something else before she could analyze what that meant. Or perhaps, deep down, she knew what it meant, but was too afraid to even peek at the part of her mind which did. She feared what would logically follow, like Pandora and her box. Instead, she wearily crushed Kathryn back down into her small mental cell, locking her away behind the weight of responsibility and duty that she was inescapably sworn to bare on her own. As she did, she felt another tiny piece of that woman die.

"Damn it." She growled, affixing the last of her four golden command pips before striding to the door. "This is why I'm not a morning person."

* * *

"Captain on the bridge." Commander Chakotay said as Janeway entered from the turbolift.

"At ease Commander." She replied, having exchanged the exact same words a thousand times before. "Anything to report?"

"Actually, yes, you'll be pleased to hear." The good-natured first officer smiled, relinquishing the Captain's chair. "We've picked up something interesting on the long range scanners. It's still a way off, I figured it wasn't anything worth waking you for"

"I see. Interesting how?" Janeway felt her mood lighten somewhat at the news, although it was tempered by the memories of so many other encounters with things she would rather Voyager had avoided.

"I am not entirely sure Captain." Tuvok, her Vulcan security officer, chimed in. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as he studied the console displaying the sensor data. "It is an object of some sort, cubic, smaller than this vessel, and artificial in its design. Our sensors are having difficulty penetrating the surface."

"Then how do you know it's interesting?" Janeway was cautious, not wanting to latch onto something irrelevant and divert, or even worse, endanger the ship just to scratch her own personal itch for excitement. Nevertheless, her curiosity was piqued at the news. "Is it a vessel?"

"Unknown, but it shows no signs of a propulsion system. As for its interest value, one might say it is curious because of how unremarkable it is." When Janeway made no move to interrupt, Tuvok continued. "The object barely registers on our scanners. It has hardly any energy signature of any kind. In fact, it would appear that someone has gone to great lengths to ensure that it remains undetected. However, a more detailed scan has revealed the intermittent emission of extremely high-frequency gamma ray bursts. Had we not been in the process of testing the sensors wavelength response times, we may not have detected it at all. These gamma rays could indicate the presence of a strong power source of some kind, contained within the object, which is being actively shielded."

"How strong are we talking about?"

"It is impossible to be certain at this distance, however I would speculate that it is at least comparable to our warp core."

"I don't suppose we can tell if there are any life signs on board?"

"Correct Captain. The shielding is too strong. At close range, our sensors may be able to penetrate the outer hull and get a more reliable reading."

Janeway glanced at Chakotay.

"How far out of our way is it?" She asked. His smirk told her he'd known the question was coming. Well, of course she was going to ask. They couldn't just leave a mystery like this dangling and not expect her to bite.

"Actually, it's almost directly in front of us. At current warp, we'll be within close sensor range in about two days." He replied.

"Well, since it's en-route, I see no reason why we shouldn't pause and investigate. This power source could be interesting, perhaps something we can use if this object is indeed abandoned. At the very least, it will give the crew something to keep themselves occupied." Standing up and straightening out her jacket, Janeway headed for her ready room, eagerly anticipating the first coffee of the day. "You have the bridge again Commander. Keep me informed of any changes.

"Aye Captain." Chakotay acknowledged.

* * *

Seven of Nine glanced at the upper corner of her work display where a small, flashing indicator alerted her to a communiqué from the bridge. With characteristic Borg efficiency, she opened the document and scanned its length, committing all relevant information to her eidetic memory. It seemed that Voyager would be making a brief stop to examine an artifact of potential scientific interest.

It was welcome news for the young Borg drone. Boredom was still a relatively new emotion to her, but she had noticed signs of it increasingly frequently during the last couple of weeks. With nothing but empty space in all directions for the foreseeable future, astrometrics had little to do, save for routine maintenance and upgrades. And while she derived satisfaction from efficiently carrying out these duties, they did little to challenge or excite her.

"Excitement is irrelevant." She murmured, not because she felt it was true, but because convincing herself that it was the case was preferable to being 'bored'.

Of course, there was another, more personal reason that she was grateful for the discovery. She had noticed that these prolonged periods of inactivity usually coincided with increased levels of depression and melancholy within Captain Janeway. For reasons which had so far eluded her, the thought of the Captain...Kathryn, experiencing these emotions seemed to make her feel the same way, something she did not enjoy at all. She recognised it as the human attribute of 'empathy', yet she seemed to respond to the Captain's mood much more than the moods of others.

_Perhaps my empathy is defective._ She thought, resolving to ask the Doctor about it the next time she was with him.

Resuming her original work, Seven was mildly perturbed to find that she was having difficulty removing images of the Captain from her mind. Her fingers danced across the keys on autopilot as she visualised Janeway; all five and a half feet of her. Yes, there was definitely something...intriguing about the older woman. The truth was, was that it was not just her empathy which behaved abnormally in the Captain's presence. No, it seemed that many of her other human features malfunctioned as well. She recalled their last encounter, when Janeway's simple presence had caused her circulatory and respiratory systems to behave outside of their normal parameters. It was imperceptible to an outside observer, for which Seven was thankful, but her Borg systems catalogued the changes in precise detail.

For some reason, she found herself reconsidering bringing the subject up with the Doctor just yet. It also seemed imprudent to mention these responses to Janeway herself, although again, Seven was unsure as to why she thought that. After all, there was very little about her fledgling humanity that she did not share with the Captain. This time though, she felt a desire to keep her thoughts private, at least until she had better categorized them. It was a distinctly...human behaviour. Seven was not sure whether to be pleased or worried at that realisation.

Feeling decidedly annoyed at all the uncertainties eroding her efficiency, Seven filed her queries away to be addressed during her off-duty time, and forced herself back to the console, images of Kathryn still lingering in the back of her head. She would perform some more intense scans of the distant object, and see if she could glean any preliminary data about its composition. That should prove to be acceptable to the Captain. The thought of pleasing the older woman created a pleasant warmness in her abdomen.

_Perhaps empathy is not irrelevant after all._ Seven thought, her lips quirking in a minute smile as she redoubled her efforts.

* * *

Captain Janeway reclined in the chair behind her desk, absent-mindedly sipping at a warm cup of her favourite drink as she reviewed some staff reports. It was fairly run-of-the-mill stuff, except for a few points of note. It seemed Ensign Adams had finally proposed to Ensign Foren, and they were now requesting a combined living space.

_About time. _Janeway chuckled. _She's been telling everyone to expect it for weeks._

It was more good news; a marriage was always a great boost to morale. Seeing love blossom despite the hardships seemed to make their situation less bleak. It tended to give people hope that they could one day return to a more normal life, back at home. Janeway also liked to think of it as a sort of passive resistance against every species which had an axe to grind with Voyager. In spite of the best efforts of the likes of the Borg and the Hirogen, they were still going strong, and making the best of their situation.

A side effect of the request was that it would free up a set of quarters; something which hadn't happened for a while. The Captain smiled to herself...and she knew just who to give them to. Tapping her communicator, she turned to gaze out of the window at the stars streaking past.

"Janeway to Seven of Nine."

"Yes Captain." The reply came a second later.

"Are you busy right now Seven?"

There was a momentary pause, and Janeway could almost see the striking Nordic woman considering her answer, as well as what the question could be implying.

"I have no duties which cannot be temporarily delayed."

"Good." Janeway said, having expected the answer. Astrometrics was probably a ghost town at the moment. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you, if you have the time. Can you report to my ready room?"

"I am on my way Captain." Seven said, and Janeway could hear the whoosh of astrometrics's automatic doors to prove it.

Of course, discussing her proposition with Seven could have waited until after their duty shifts, but Janeway found that she enjoyed having an excuse to see Seven before then. Once again, she tried not to think too deeply about what that meant.

_She's good company; intelligent, insightful, and even humorous at times. That's all it is._

The Captain was unsure of Seven's opinion on having her own quarters. The Borg woman had never complained about 'living' in cargo bay 2, but then again, she rarely tended to express any discomfort, even when she was obviously in pain or upset. As a member of the senior staff and an indispensible member of Voyager's crew, it seemed only fair that Seven should have a private area that she could call her own. Kathryn just wondered why she hadn't considered it sooner.

_Perhaps because the fact she regenerates in cargo bay 2 means you can watch her while she sleeps._

Quashing that thought as soon as it sprung up, the Captain was dismayed at the ring of truth it had. Whenever she felt restless, she tended to wander the ship, and her impromptu ramblings had often seemed to end in cargo bay 2. It seemed that regardless of whether it was her legs or her mind which was wandering, all roads eventually led back to Seven of Nine.

Janeway was startled from her introspective mood as the very object of her musings entered her ready room. Seven was an exquisite sight to behold; six feet of womanly Borg encased in a silver-grey biosuit which hugged her curves in all the right places, and left only her hands and head visible to the naked eye. She wore her hair in her usual austere bun; an 'efficient' style, she had once told the Captain.

Composing herself, the Captain rose from behind her desk and gestured to the sofas.

"I prefer to stand." Came Seven's rote reply.

Sometimes Janeway would insist that the stubborn Borg drone sat, but today she was hoping that Seven would be willing to agree to something new, so she allowed this small concession, instead perching herself on the back of one sofa to avoid having to crane her neck to look up at the other woman.

"Very well." She acknowledged, before getting straight down to buisness. "Seven, are you aware of Ensigns Adams and Foren's recent engagement?"

The slight look of surprise on the blonde's face indicated that it was not the question she had been expecting.

"I am Captain." She replied a second later. "I have heard numerous crewmembers discussing the occurrence of this ritual."

"Well," Janeway continued, Seven's precise terminology never failing to make her smile fondly. "It may come as no surprise, then, that they have requested to share quarters."

"A logical progression of their relationship." Seven agreed, evidently uncertain as to where this conversation was heading, but willing to go along with her Captain. "In my lessons with the Doctor on human courtship, it was stated that couples often seek co-habitation once their relationship reaches a suitably 'serious' level."

"Quite so." The Captain liked these little guessing games she played with Seven, giving the brilliant Borg a chance to extrapolate what Janeway would say from the scant data she provided. Quite often, Seven would surprise her with something entirely unexpected. This time though, it seemed she needed a few pointers. "I guess you're wondering what this has to do with you?"

Seven simply raised an eyebrow, causing her optical implant to quirk quizzically; a signal to proceed.

"Well, with Foren moving in with Adams, there is going to be a set of quarters going spare. I was wondering..." Janeway paused momentarily, thinking how best to phrase the proposition. In the end, she settled for straightforwardly; after all, Seven appreciated efficiency above almost everything else. "...I was just wondering if you might want them, since you don't have a place of your own yet."

"My alcove is in cargo bay 2..." Seven replied, seemingly not quite understanding.

"Yes, but it's not really a living space. A real, personal, living quarters." Janeway insisted, although she made a point of keeping her voice friendly. After all, she wasn't giving Seven an order; she was merely trying to encourage her further development. "You regenerate there, true, but it is also a public area. Wouldn't you rather have somewhere private, where you can be alone if you wish to be? Besides, there aren't things like a bed or a toilet in the cargo bay."

Seven opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as she considered the Captain's words.

"It is true that I sometimes feel...uneasy with the fact that others can access my habitation at any time, especially while I am regenerating." Janeway felt a small twinge of guilt, realising she was probably more guilty of that than any other crewmember. "However I do not require sleep or waste disposal facilities."

"Not yet, but you may do as more of your dormant human systems assert themselves." Janeway could tell that she was getting through to Seven, so she pushed on. "Why don't we give it a try? You can see how it goes, and if you end up liking it, we can even arrange to have your alcoves moved there if you like." Hesitating, she added. "As it turns out, the empty quarters are on the same deck as mine, so I'll be on hand if you need any help."

She hadn't been sure whether or not to point out that last fact, since Seven would obviously realise it herself. Then she'd realised how silly she was being. She'd always made herself available to the young woman before, and now should be no different. Her own conflicting, and conveniently ignored, feelings shouldn't factor into that.

Seven seemed to warm to the idea, although whether that was because of Janeway's last sentence or her own internal analysis, the Captain couldn't say.

"Acceptable. When will Ensign Foren be vacating?"

"Not for another week or so yet." Janeway replied. Then before she could help herself, she added. "I'll re-jig the duty roster if I can, to give me some free time to help you 'move in' and get settled."

_Well, you've said it now._ Janeway groaned. Deep inside her though, Kathryn smiled to herself.

Seven, too, seemed startled by the offer, but her surprise rapidly disappeared, replaced with one of her rare but radiant smiles.

"Very acceptable."

Kathryn's heart fluttered. She was thankful for the impending examination of the alien artifact. It looked like she'd need some help keeping her mind off of the kind of things her captaincy forbade.

* * *

She was alone in a solitary pool of light. All around her, blackness stretched away to infinity, and although she could not see beyond the circle she stood in, she knew that there was nothing else out there.

Except for a single figure.

"Captain." Seven said as she stepped into the spotlight. Her voice sounded odd, distorted, as if she was talking through a pane of glass. He hands were cupped around something Janeway could not see."I have found what you are searching for."

"You have?" The sentence made inherent sense to Kathryn, yet she was not consciously aware of what thing Seven was referring to. "Show me, darling."

_Darling?_ A tiny part of her mind questioned in dismay, before it was smothered by the layers of this surreal reality. A warmth filled her body, comforting in its familiarity as she eyed Seven.

The woman approached her, each step of her luxuriously long legs elevating Kathryn's pulse. She could not tell whether she was anticipating the object Seven cradled, or the chance to finally lay hands on her astrometrics officer.

_God, it's been so long._

The Borg stopped a few feet from the Captain.

"Here it is, as you requested."

As Seven revealed what she was carrying, Janeway recoiled in horror, contentment flipping to dismay in a second. The younger woman held a human heart, apparently freshly severed from its owner. Impossibly, it was still beating, and with each pulse, fresh spurts of crimson lifeblood flowed from severed arteries, running over Seven's hands and dripping onto the featureless floor. Only Janeway's training stopped her from vomiting at the unexpected sight.

"What...how...?" As she stumbled for words, the light which illuminated them changed, its colour darkening from white to a shifting mixture of blues and reds which whirled around each other in a maddening frenzy. A piercing noise filled the endless expanse, like a grinding, mechanical foghorn. It reverberated inside Janeway's skull, inside her very mind, forcing her to her knees.

"I-I don't understand." She cried, a sense of overwhelming despair and betrayal filling her, although she did not know where it came from. Tears stung at her eyes, and her vision blurred as she looked towards Seven, suddenly terrified of what she might see.

The woman's skin was shifting, rippling and distorting. Then, like the tears which now streamed down Janeway's face, it trickled from her frame like tendrils of quicksilver. Beneath was an alien figure which Kathryn did not recognise, but which instilled a sense of primal fear in her heart.

It was male humanoid in form, although it stood over eight feet tall. His skin was composed of metallic plates, shined to a perfect chrome finish...a synthetic organism, Janeway realised. Four arms emerged from his torso, each ending in a set of vicious, steely talons. As she watched, their eyes met. Twin points of ruby flame burned deep within his eye sockets; baleful, and inhuman.

"Captain." He said, echoing Seven's greeting. The words were the same, but the traces of warmth which infused her Borg's voice were gone, replaced with something harsh and soulless. Like the thrumming which had preceded his arrival, his tone was base and mechanical, seeming to come both from his mouth, and from within her own skull.

Before Janeway could stand, he was moving, closing the space between them in a few powerful strides. As he did, the claws of one hand seemed to elongate, growing to vicious spikes which now reached towards her. Janeway tried to react, but her limbs were like lead; sluggish and unresponsive. She could only watch in horror as the points plunged into her chest, bringing with them an agonising pain and an icy chill.

"You will thank me in time, Captain." The artificial man said as he pressed harder, seemingly oblivious to Janeway's cries of agony. "The days ahead hold many surprises, and you will find that physical pain will be least of your concerns."

By now his whole hand was inside her torso. Kathryn was aware that she should be dead or dying from the injury, yet despite the damages inflicted to it, her body seemed as healthy as ever. The pain was horrific, but more bearable than perhaps it should be.

"We all have our parts, but who is player, and who is pawn? The answer may not be what you expect."

With a sudden surge of savage strength, the man tore his hand free, severing Janeway's heart and discarding it on the floor next to the other one. The shock it sent through the Captain's body froze her in place, and as she watched, the two organs melted away into puddles of midnight ink, which disappeared through invisible cracks in the ground.

"Time makes a mockery of the mortal form, yet it is my greatest ally. Continue your journey, I will wait, and soon all shall be revealed. That is, if you choose to see it. We shall meet again, and when we do, you shall embrace me as a brother."

The figure receded as Kathryn stumbled forward, and darkness swallowed her.


	2. Chapter 2: Alexithymia

**Author's Notes:**

Hey there guys, here's the second chapter. A bit more Janeway/Seven stuff in this one, after the scene-setting of the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it :) Please be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think. I love hearing feedback, and it inspires me to write more.

P.S. Alexithymia means the inability to adequately express emotions verbally.

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 2 - Alexithymia**

_There are some secrets best left uncovered._

_There are some legends best forgotten._

_There are some tombs best left sealed._

_Heed this warning traveller, and be on your way._

_For within lies The Enemy; evil with lidless eyes and a heart as dark as the void._

- Eternity Ark Inscription

* * *

"Regeneration cycle complete."

Seven of Nine opened her eyes, and was greeted with the familiar sight of cargo bay two staring back at her. The twin metal prongs of the alcove disengaged from her lower back, and delicately, she stepped down from the dais, immediately proceeding to her work console and activating it. The time was 1745 hours; 15 minutes until her scheduled Velocity match with the Captain.

The sport, played on the holodeck with hand phasers and a virtual disk, was one of the few recreational pastimes Seven indulged in. She found that it provided her with acceptable levels of physical and mental exercise, requiring its players to be both athletic and tactical in their approach. More importantly however, it allowed her to spend more time with the Captain.

Not for the first time, Seven pondered what this meant. Although she had been largely accepted by the Voyager crew, there were still very few of them she would consider 'friends'. Some, like the chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres, were openly hostile towards her. The majority acted indifferent, treating her with politeness and professionalism, yet making no attempt to approach her on a social level. And she could count those that she felt an emotional connection to on one hand. The Captain did not fit neatly into any of these categories however. She respected people like Tuvok and the Doctor, and enjoyed their company (although when it came to the Emergency Medical Hologram, only in small doses), but applying that description to her relationship with Kathryn seemed...insufficient. She wondered if there was a social level above 'friend'. Of course, there was romantic partnership, but since her and the Captain did not engage in any of the customs associated with such a status, that was not a relevant description. Besides, both she and the Captain were female, and therefore, incompatible for such a relationship.

She did not know why, but that thought produced a strange, unpleasant sensation in her chest.

Consulting her internal chronometer, she realised that she had delayed longer than she should have. She now had only 10 minutes to get to the holodeck. Annoyed that she had lost track of time, even if it was only for a few minutes, Seven hurriedly donned her velocity outfit in the small, partitioned-off corner of the cargo bay she used to change. Leaving the cavernous room she called home, she assumed a brisk pace to ensure she reached her destination punctually.

The Captain was not there when she arrived, precisely on the dot of 1800 hours. Seven often wondered why humans would specify a time and then not obey their own directive. Then she had to remind herself that their mental clock was not as efficient as her own. Kathryn was never more than a few minutes late however, and Seven found that it did not irritate her to the same extent it would with another crewmember. It was just another thing to add to the growing list of exceptions regarding the older woman.

Never one to waste time when she could be productive, Seven picked up where her thoughts had left off minutes ago. Like in astrometrics the other day, she debated whether or not to consult the Doctor, having changed her mind several times already. It was true that he was a medical professional and also her 'official' coach in integrating herself into human society. He was the most logical person to ask about her confusing feelings. Nevertheless, she was also reluctant to share what she felt, finding it too 'personal' to discuss. It was a far cry from her days in the collective, where there so such thing as a private thought and everything was shared freely.

_Perhaps it is possible to employ deception._ Seven mused, remembering what she had learnt about lying and falsifying. In general, it was considered a bad and amoral practice, and not something Seven was comfortable with at all. However, in this case, perhaps she could use a 'white lie' or a 'lie of omission', which she understood were more acceptable. She could talk to the Doctor about her feelings without revealing who they were directed at. He was bound by an ethical code which prevented him from forcing her to reveal more information, unless it was essential to her health or the functioning of the ship, which Seven doubted.

Happy that she had found a potential solution to her quandary, Seven resolved to go to sickbay immediately after the match she was about to engage in.

"Ah, there you are." Came a familiar, smoky voice, and Seven turned to see the Captain approaching down the corridor. "Early, like usual."

"Actually, I arrived at the specified time." The Borg replied. "It is you who are late."

After saying it, she realised that it sounded like an accusation, when in truth, she had simply wanted to correct Janeway's statement. If it bothered the Captain though, she didn't let it show.

"My mistake. I was just making doubly sure the science departments are ready for the examination in tomorrow. I trust astrometrics is prepared." Janeway gestured towards the holodeck doors, and they stepped inside.

"Yes Captain. Sensors are running at peak efficiency. I have calibrated the spectral range to the higher EM bands emitted by the artifact. It should allow our scans to penetrate the outer hull." Seven eyed Janeway as they retrieved their phasers, hoping that the work would meet with her approval.

"Excellent." The Captain smiled, and Seven felt a small shiver run down her spine. It seemed she had been correct in her assessment that pleasing Kathryn would also please her.

The older woman took her position on the starting square.

"Shall we?"

Seven mirrored her actions, readying her weapon.

"Proceed."

"Computer, begin program." Janeway ordered, flashing Seven a quick, challenging smirk before they began the metaphorical fight for their lives.

* * *

Just under an hour later, the two women left the holodeck, both sweaty and exhausted from the frantic game they'd just had. Only Janeway wore the triumphant grin of victory, however.

"Better luck next time." She said, patting Seven on the shoulder and trying her best not to sound condescending.

"I do not understand." The Borg complained. "I am physically superior, yet you continue to defeat me in every match we play. How is this possible?"

Janeway chuckled slightly to herself at Seven's bluntness. Coming from anyone else, that sentence would be the epitome of arrogance. From Seven though, she knew it was just a statement of fact and genuine confusion. Her Borg enhancements did indeed elevate her above an average human, granting her superior strength and reflexes, as well as enhanced mental capabilities, such as her eidetic memory. By all accounts, she should be wiping the floor with the older, smaller Captain. Janeway chalked it up to experience.

"To be honest Seven, I'm not sure. I have been playing the game much longer than you." She replied. "You're definitely getting better though, and the scores are getting narrower each time. I think your first victory can't be too far off."

Janeway was about to continue, when to her dismay, she found herself stifling a yawn.

_It's that damn insomnia._ She brooded, remembering the previous evening. It had taken her half the night to fall asleep, and just a few hours after she finally managed it, she found herself waking up, muffling a scream and drenched in cold perspiration. She couldn't remember any of the dream she'd been having beforehand, but it had clearly been unpleasant. After that, her body simply refused to get comfortable, and she'd only managed to doze lightly until her morning alarm call.

Seven looked at her with concern, which touched Kathryn's heart, but rankled Janeway. She couldn't go around letting her crew know just how tired she was.

"You require regeneration." The Borg said, sounding remarkably like she was ordering the Captain to bed.

"Says the pot to the kettle." Janeway replied, clamping down on her irritation and forcing herself to be pleasant. After all, it was hardly Seven's fault that she wasn't sleeping well.

_Now that you mention it..._

Janeway ignored her inner voice, refocusing her attention on Seven's bemused expression.

"Captain, neither of us are items of kitchenware."

Drawing a blank for a second, Janeway realised Seven was referring to the idiom.

"It's a saying Seven." She said, happy to be back in the familiar territory of educating the younger woman. "Or rather, the shortened version of the saying. 'The pot calling the kettle black.' It means you shouldn't criticise someone about something you're guilty of yourself. I know how lax you can be with your regeneration cycles."

"I did not intend to criticise you Captain." Seven looked shocked at the idea. Ironic, Janeway thought, considering how many times the Borg had disagreed with her in the past.

"No offense taken Seven. I was only teasing."

"'Teasing'" Seven said, as if tasting the word. "I see."

"Good." Janeway searched around for something to say to move the conversation on. "What are your plans now?"

"I am going to report to sickbay." Seven replied matter-of-factly.

"Sickbay?" Janeway fought hard to keep the note of alarm out of her voice. Seven had a nasty habit of springing important things on you when you least expected it. "Are...are you okay? Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I am 'fine' Captain." The younger woman said earnestly, although Janeway thought she could detect a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "I merely wish to consult the Doctor about something of a...personal nature. It concerns my lessons on socialising."

"Oh." The Captain immediately regretted assuming the worst. Damn it, why was she so jumpy; especially around Seven? "Oh. I see. Well, I won't pry then; but if you want to talk about it at any point, my door is always open."

_Perhaps that's going a bit far._ Janeway thought, remembering the times when Seven had come to her in the middle of the night to discuss some new aspect of humanity she found illogical. The Captain didn't exactly appreciate being woken up in the wee hours of the morning, especially now that her sleep was so disrupted. Nevertheless, she liked to think that her talks with Seven were an important part of the woman's development and integration, and she was loathe to impose any restrictions that might discourage her from coming. She just hoped that Seven had learnt enough to realise it was impolite to bother people while they were 'regenerating'.

"Thank you." There was that rare smile again. Janeway could only endure a few seconds before glancing away, disguising the action as a cough.

After a moment of silence that felt awkward to Janeway, but didn't seem to bother Seven, the blonde woman turned to go, apparently deciding that enough had been said. She took a few steps, then suddenly turned back.

"Goodnight, Captain." She said, her voice surprisingly soft; not at all like her usual, clipped manner of speaking.

"Goodnight Seven." Kathryn replied, swallowing; startled and charmed by the pleasantry.

_She's come so far._

Her eyes bored a hole in Seven's back until the Borg had disappeared round a corner and out of view. Only then did Janeway move, heading back to the suddenly miserable thought of her empty quarters and the promise of another sleepless night.

* * *

Seven strode into sickbay, stopping just inside the door and scanning the room for the distinctive teal of a Starfleet medical uniform. As she entered, the Doctor glanced up from where he had been working in his office.

"Ah, Seven, this is a rare treat." He exclaimed, closing his workstation. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

The blonde resisted rolling her eyes. She valued the Doctor as a friend, but that did not prevent his mannerisms from annoying her on occasion. Since he had been activated, the Emergency Medical Hologram had been in almost continuous service; far longer than most holograms. Over time, he had developed from his core programming, gaining what was widely recognised as sentience. Unfortunately, he had also developed a somewhat arrogant, pompous demeanour. Seven wondered if those were traits of the man he was based on, or if he had 'evolved' them all on his own. It was an interesting question, but not why she was here.

"Doctor." She greeted evenly. "I have come to seek your advice regarding some of my human systems."

"Is this a medical query?" He said, withdrawing a tricorder and beginning a routine scan.

"I am uncertain." Seven replied honestly. "I have noticed fluctuations in my respiration and heart rate. I have also been experiencing...persistent thoughts that I cannot seem to dismiss."

"Hmm. Well, I'll need a bit more than that to work with." Seven leant backwards slightly as the Doctor brought the medical probe right up to her face. "When have you noticed these...abnormalities? And for how long have they been occurring?"

Seven considered her response one last time. All the Doctor needed to know was that these symptoms were triggered by the presence of another individual. Surely it did not matter who this individual was, apart from satisfying the Doctor's curiosity? Seven did not like withholding information, but she remembered what Kathryn had told her; that she should 'trust her gut'. Well, this time, her 'gut' was telling her to remain silent on the matter.

"They occur in the presence of another crewmember." She stated, noting the way the Doctor's eyes widened at the statement. "When I am near them, my heart rate elevates, and I occasionally have difficulty breathing. After they have left, images and memories of them linger in my head. They distract me from my work, yet I cannot ignore them."

The Doctor withdrew his probe, sliding it back into the tricorder. Seven thought it was an illogical thing to do; should he not be scanning for the cause of the problem? Nevertheless, she continued.

"My emotional state is also affected by this individual. I find that I am influenced by their feelings more than those of other people. If they are upset, it upsets me as well, even if there is no cause for my sadness. Similarly, when they are happy, it causes warm sensations in my stomach which my own internal diagnostics cannot identify."

"I see." Said the Doctor. He wore an expression which Seven could not interpret.

"Well, how are you going to proceed?" She asked, feeling irritated that she seemingly had to tell the Doctor how to do his job.

"There's nothing I can do." The EMH replied. "At least, nothing physical. This doesn't sound like a medical problem, Seven."

"Then it is a psychological problem?" The Borg replied, ocular implant raising in concern.

"It's not a problem at all." The Doctor let out a slightly exasperated sigh; clearly meant to prove a point, since he did not naturally breathe. "Seven, whoever this mysterious person is...you've got a crush on them."

"A...'crush'? Explain." Seven could feel her irritation rising. The Doctor was making no sense.

"'Crush'. It means feelings of romantic or sexual attraction towards someone."

Seven made a mental note to contact B'Elanna and have her run a level one diagnostic on the EMH's systems. He must be faulty in some way, because clearly his diagnosis was incorrect. She and Janeway were not compatible romantically, therefore it was impossible that she had developed a 'crush' on the older woman.

"You are mistaken." She said in the meantime. "It is not possible I am attracted to this person."

"I'm afraid the 'symptoms' are quite clear Seven." He replied, making little inverted commas in the air with his fingers for emphasis. "It's a perfectly natural part of being human. Everyone experiences these feelings all the time."

Seven let his words sink in, and she could feel the colour draining from her face. If he was correct, and she did indeed have a 'crush' on Captain Janeway, then there was something seriously wrong with her. Perhaps her Borg systems were interfering with her brain chemistry. She had to make the Doctor realise this.

"Then I am defective." She stated, her voice trembling slightly.

"Really Seven, that's a rather strong word to use." The Doctor rambled on. "Like I said, it's perfectly normal. I suppose it was inevitable really, sooner or later. I just hope whoever the guy is realises his luck. I'm sure he'll be the envy of the..."

"You do not understand!" Seven cut him off, her voice rising. This was urgent; who knew how much danger she was in? The fact that her 'crush' was beginning to intensify could be a sign of a much more severe problem. "It is not natural. The person is female."

If she'd thought the Doctor had looked surprised before, it was nothing compared to the expression he wore now. He opened his mouth, but didn't seem to have anything to say.

_It must be a really severe defect to render him speechless._ Seven thought. She was scared, and found herself wishing Kathryn was there, despite the Captain apparently being the root of her problem.

After a few long moments, the Doctor seemed to compose himself, although now he suddenly seemed fascinated by the wall just to the right of Seven's head, and refused to meet her eyes.

"Oh...Well...I, er, I see."

"Then you understand the severity of the situation. You must locate the source of the defect immediately."

"Seven...there is no defect." If she didn't know him better, Seven almost thought the Doctor looked...embarrassed? "That...That's also perfectly normal. People can be attracted to members of the same sex."

"But you stated that romantic partnerships are formed between a man and a woman." Seven could feel her panic recede, since clearly the Doctor did not think she was in any danger. It was quickly replaced by confusion. Apparently she was lacking knowledge of some important variables.

"Well, yes, often that is true. However, it's not quite as simple as that, something which I perhaps...neglected...to mention before."

"'Perhaps' you should 'mention' it now." Seven fixed the EMH with an icy stare.

"Very well." The Doctor heaved another dramatic sigh, and Seven had to resist the urge to expedite his explanation with her fist. "Seven, throughout human history, there has always been a minority which is attracted to members of the same sex, or to members of both sexes. For whatever reasons, this used to be frowned upon, however it has been an accepted part of society for many decades now. About ten percent of people identify themselves as either homo or bi-sexual."

"What did you not inform me of this during my lessons on romance and dating? Why did you not include females in my lists of potentially suitable partners?"

"It...It didn't seem...necessary." The Doctor said lamely. "Statistically, you would only be attracted to men...I didn't think...I didn't realize it would be relevant."

"Clearly your assumption that this information would be irrelevant was incorrect."

"I can see that now." The EMH looked like he was about to formulate another excuse, then all of a sudden, he deflated, apparently deciding that this wasn't something he could bluster his way out of. "I am sorry Seven. I just wanted to keep things simple for you; not overload you with too many options at once. It seemed simpler to stick to men, and it improved your chances of success. After all, if only one in ten women are, well, gay, then that limits your options."

"Is sexual preference a choice?" Seven relented a bit, although she was still angry that the Doctor had decided to withhold information from her that was potentially vital to her success romantically.

"No...no, it's not." The Doctor sighed again, but this time it was more contrite than exasperated. "It's just something you've got to figure out for yourself, but not something you can change."

"So if a woman is attracted to men, they will not take a female partner?" Seven's thoughts immediately turned to Kathryn. The Captain had not been romantically involved with anyone since they became lost in the delta quadrant, but Seven knew she had been engaged to a male, before the man in question had terminated the relationship.

"Well, these things are never quite that clear cut. Perhaps she has the potential to be attracted to women, but just hasn't found the right one yet. Honestly, it's more to do with the individual than the gender. People have preferences, but they can change on a case-by-case basis, if the attraction is strong enough."

Seven was surprised by the Doctor's words. He was not usually so straightforward and honest with his explanations. Perhaps he was attempting to 'make-up' for his mistake in not informing her of these details sooner.

They also gave her hope.

"Very well. How do I ascertain whether this individual is agreeable to a same-gender coupling?" Now that she was aware of the possibility for her and Kathryn to engage in a romantic relationship, her feelings made a lot more sense.

"I, uh, well, it depends." The EMH ventured tentatively. "Who is it?"

Seven had known the question was coming. Now that she understood better, however, she was even more determined not to reveal the identity of her 'crush'. She did not want anyone to be aware of it yet, especially not the Captain, who had a habit of finding out every piece of public information on the ship sooner or later.

"I would prefer not to say."

"I guessed as much. Well, Seven, I'm afraid that I'm probably not the best person to ask. I may have many skills, but this isn't one of them. Perhaps you could ask the Captain? She's been able to help you in the past."

"I do not believe the Captain will be able to help me at this time." Seven replied, noting the irony of the statement.

"In that case, I guess you'll just have to figure it out yourself." The Doctor smiled, although it seemed rather forced. "Was there anything else?"

"That is all I require at this time." Seven nodded at the Doctor, before adding. "Thank you for your assistance. However, in the future you will discuss all possibilities with me, and allow me to decide which pieces of information are relevant myself."

"Yes, of course."

"Acceptable." Seven left sickbay, her mind whirling with questions and ideas. The possibility of same-sex partnerships had revitalised her interest in romantic relationships, which she had previously dismissed after finding no acceptable matches among Voyager's crew. It appeared she had been looking in the wrong place. Unbidden, images of Kathryn came to mind, but this time she did not try to suppress them.

Usually, even when she was off duty, Seven would spend her free time in astrometrics, working on whatever project currently occupied her, or finding ways to improve the efficiency of the sensor systems. Now though, she had a new project of an entirely different nature, and instead, she headed back to cargo bay two. There was much research to be done.

* * *

As soon as the doors to her quarters had shut, Kathryn Janeway threw herself down on the sofa, allowing a small groan of frustration to escape her lips.

_This isn't going to go away, is it?_

She had been dancing around the subject for so long, avoiding it like the plague and hoping it would simply vanish. When that hadn't worked, she'd tried suppressing it, stuffing her feelings deep into her mind, and slamming her command mask down over top, like trying to cram an extra pair of shoes into an already bulging suitcase. Now each time she so much as looked at the young Borg, she could feel herself fraying at the seams, and she knew it was only a matter of time before something gave way. Possibly her sanity.

_It's time to face facts. You lo-_

She stopped herself, instinctively cutting off the line of thought before she even realised what she was doing.

_Have I really conditioned myself that much? _She thought sadly. _Not to show any signs of humanity? Not to even think like a human? God, I'm worse than the Borg Queen._

Bringing a hand up to her aching temples, Janeway massaged them as best she could. It did little to alleviate the pressure which was threatening to split her skull open. Was it any wonder she wasn't sleeping well? Carrying around all this pent-up emotion couldn't be good for her.

_It's not about what's good for you; it's about what's good for the ship. _Janeway reminded herself. _The crew needs you to be something more than human. You can't afford to acknowledge these feelings._

_ And is it really good for the ship to have a Captain who's so dog tired can barely drag herself out of bed in the morning?_ Kathryn retorted. _To have a Captain so lonely she's beginning to lose her mind. How can you make the right decisions for the individuals of this ship if you can't even make the right decisions for yourself?_

_You have made the right decision! There are some things you must be prepared to sacrifice as Captain. You are responsible for this crew and this ship. That doesn't leave room for anything or anyone else._

_ This is more than a crew and you know it. We aren't in the alpha quadrant. Like it or not, we are a family now, and cutting yourself, you true self, off from everyone else harms your position, it doesn't strengthen it. You've already made a dozen compromises, especially when it comes to her. What's so different about making one more? What's so difficult in allowing yourself to love her?_

"So I do love her." Janeway murmured. There was no sense trying to deny it. She did love Seven, and she had done for a very long time.

What did this mean? Did acknowledging it change anything? She'd been so afraid of speaking or even thinking the words, yet now that they were said, she realised she'd known it all along. It seemed almost laughable that she hadn't admitted it to herself sooner.

The question now, was what should she do about it?

_Nothing. _Hissed Janeway

_Because that's worked well so far. _Kathryn snapped at herself sarcastically. _You can't just choose not to love someone. And ignoring and denying it has made only made things worse. How much longer can you keep this up and still function as a Captain, much less a thinking, feeling individual? If you care so much about this ship, you owe it to yourself to do whatever it takes to ensure you are at your best. And if that involves loving six feet of gorgeous, blonde Borg, so much the better._

_It would undermine my position with the crew. _Janeway wasn't backing down without a fight. _Family or not, I am still their leader. They have to trust that I will make decisions that are in the best interests of this ship. If you love Seven, how can they be sure you aren't acting out of personal interests? How can they be sure you won't treat her preferentially? They will lose their trust and respect for you._

_You already treat her preferentially you idiot. Can't you see that? She's the only one you spend time with on a regular basis for anything besides ship buisness. She's one of the few people ever to set foot in your quarters. You constantly bend the rules for her. And does anyone begrudge it? No. Do you think B'Elanna's engineering team distrust her because of her relationship with Paris?_

_That's different and you know it._

_Perhaps, but it doesn't change the fact that the crew want every member of this ship to be happy, including you. They-_

_It's irrelevant anyway._ Janeway smirked, suddenly changing tack. _Even if you do love her, what are the chances Seven feels the same? She's never shown real interest in any kind of romantic relationship before. No doubt she sees it as irrelevant. And even if she doesn't, do you honestly think she'd want you? Someone twice her age, with all the burdens and responsibilities of command. Face it, she sees you as a mentor and nothing more._

Kathryn could come up with no argument against that. Her Captain's sensibilities spoke the soul-crushing truth. Whether or not she loved Seven, and whether or not she admitted it to herself or anyone else was, at the end of the day, a moot point. Seven could never love her back. As a mother figure maybe…

_But not the way I love her._

Janeway should have felt triumphant. She'd successfully quashed Kathryn's voice once again. Without it, she could go back to being what the crew expected her to be; what they demanded she be.

So why did she feel so hollow? Why did her insides ache, like someone had sucker punched her in the gut? Why…

Why was she crying?

_Oh God._

Try as she might, she couldn't stop the steady stream of tears which had begun to flow. All she could do was, with a sniffly and trembling voice, order a privacy lock on her door and communicator. Once that was done, she just lay on the couch, crying silently until the grey haze of sleep eventually came and stole her troubled mind away.


	3. Chapter 3: Sayuri Yoshida

**Author's Notes:**

Third chapter for you guys; I hope you like it :) As always, I love feedback and reviews, so if you have a few minutes to spare, I greatly appreciate you telling me what you think. Enjoy!

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 3 – Sayuri Yoshida**

There was a palpable air of excitement on the bridge, which bustled with more activity than it had seen for many months. After weeks of chomping at the bit with nothing to do, Voyager's crew were eager for some action. Janeway had ordered all her senior staff and the heads of each department to the alpha shift in preparation for their rendezvous with the artifact. If everything went smoothly, she'd need their practical and scientific expertise to help investigate the strange object, and if things went badly, well, she wanted her best and brightest on hand to help keep Voyager in one piece.

"Thirty seconds to visual range." Tom Paris called out, his fingers dancing across the helm controls as he prepared to bring Voyager back to below light speed.

"Once we're there, slow to one half impulse and bring it up on the main viewer." Janeway smiled, enjoying herself, despite the fatigue in her bones. She'd slept poorly again last night, although this time it was probably due to the fact she's drifted off on the couch rather than in her bed. The achy back and sore limbs which had greeted her when she awoke were also painful reminders that she wasn't as young as she used to be. Nevertheless, the potential for scientific discovery had lightened her mood, and allowed her to temporarily put her personal problems on the back burner. Here, on the bridge, she was in her element, and even the sight of Seven at the aft science station, as beautiful as ever, had not quite been enough to shake her.

"Three…two…one." Tom disengaged the engines, and the streaks of white on the bridge viewscreen resolved once more into distinct points of light. Voyager shuddered slightly as they dropped out of warp, hull creaking as it settled into their new speed.

Off in the distance was a barely visible shape. Janeway could only distinguish it by the starts it blocked from view.

"Magnify." She ordered, and the image on the screen jumped closer.

The artifact was a perfect cube, made of what appeared to be a dull, dark metal. Symbols adorned its surface, but nothing Janeway could recognise. It tumbled end over end, seemingly drifting at random with no means of propulsion.

"How big is it Tuvok?" She asked, glancing at her dark-skinned security officer who manned the tactical station.

"The cube is slightly larger than one of our shuttlecraft. It measures approximately ten metres in each dimension."

"Are you able to get a clear scan of its interior?" Until they could ascertain what was inside, there was no way to know how safe it was.

"Negative, we are not yet close enough. We will need to be within five kilometres, although I cannot guarantee a result."

"Take us in Mr Paris." Janeway turned back to the viewscreen, eyes fixed on the prize. "But be ready to get us out of here at a moment's notice. We've had too many nasty surprises for me to be sure this won't be another."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Seven," Janeway said, thankful that the Borg's position meant she wasn't expected to turn and look at her. She needed to be focussed for this. "Those markings on the surface. Do they match anything the Borg have encountered before?"

"The Borg do not tend to keep records of the written languages of the races they assimilate." Seven replied with characteristic precision and efficiency. "However they do retain images of space vessels for the purpose of visual identification. This 'craft', and its insignias do not match any design known to the Collective."

"The hull appears to be some sort of tritanium composite alloy mixed with whatever it is that's blocking out sensors." Harry Kim interjected from the navigation console. "Whoever built this, they built it to last."

"That would imply its creators had a level of technology comparable to our own." Tuvok added.

"Indeed." Janeway nodded. They had to be careful. People in the Delta quadrant tended to get annoyed when you interfered with their stuff. "Seven, did astrometrics chart any inhabited systems in the vicinity?"

"No Captain. This area of space is mostly deserted, with the nearest star systems composed exclusively of gas giants. It seems improbable that the object originated near here."

"Well, we'll be able to find out soon enough." Tom said. "We're clearing the five kilometre threshold now."

"Hold position." Janeway stood up, wincing imperceptibly at the tension in her spine.

"Aye ma'am, full stop."

"Tuvok?" The Captain asked, waiting for him to report on the results of the sensor sweep. After a few moments, the Vulcan nodded.

"Our sensors _are_ able to reach the interior, thanks to Seven's modifications." Janeway smiled instinctively, and sensed, rather than saw, Seven do the same. She didn't dare turn to face the other woman.

_You've got it bad._ Kathryn chuckled. _Can she really undo you with just a smile? Whatever happened to the aloof, inhuman Captain Janeway?_

The Captain ignored her persistent internal voice. Although she'd managed to talk herself down last night, that moment of weakness had given new strength to her more personal desires, and it was getting harder to shut them out. Pointedly, she focused on Tuvok's report.

"I am reading no life signs, however we were correct; there is a considerably strong power source within. It appears to be segregated into two distinct parts, however I cannot discern what it is powering. The cube does not possess weapon systems, shields, or life support."

"Is it dangerous?"

"I do not believe so." Tuvok responded. "The power source is stable, and the radiation we detected is not harmful in itself. There is some form of computer system on board, however it is impossible to determine more without a direct interface."

"Direct interface? You're saying we should bring it onto the ship?" The idea sounded crazy, but then, Tuvok was always logical in his assessment. Janeway reminded herself that this knee-jerk reaction to the unknown was simply the result of the many bad experiences they'd had in this quadrant; a distinctly emotional response that Tuvok did not share. It was true that, if there was no danger to the vessel, it would be easier to study the device on board rather than remotely.

"Caution is paramount, but if we wish to learn more about the object, it will be necessary."

Janeway weighed the pros and cons in her mind. This wasn't a decision to be taken lightly, and not one that she should dictate by herself.

"Well then, it seems that we have a choice to make." Janeway tapped her comm badge and opened up a ship-wide channel. "All senior staff, report to the conference room."

* * *

Once the last of her officers had sat down and the chatter had died away, Janeway rose from her chair, and activated the table's holo display. A 3D image of the cube appeared, slowly rotating; enigmatic and inscrutable.

"I'm sure you're all aware of the alien artifact we have stopped to investigate." She began, looking around and seeing a few nodding heads. "We have made visual contact and performed an initial sensor sweep. As far as we can tell, the object is abandoned. There are no inhabited systems for many light-years, and no life signs from the object itself. However, on board, we have detected a strong power source and computer systems of an unknown purpose. There are also inscriptions on the faces of the object that are unfamiliar, but appear to be writing of some kind."

Pausing momentarily to make sure everyone was up to speed, she continued.

"We have learnt as much as we can from here. Our sensors are able to penetrate the shielding but only to a limited degree. The way I see it, we now have two options. We can continue, leaving the artifact where it is, or, we can bring it on board for further study."

Sitting back down, she steepled her fingers, and let her words sink in.

"So, people, opinions and ideas. Let's hear them."

B'Elanna was the first to speak.

"Practically speaking Captain, even if we do intend to bring this…thing onto the ship, where are we going to put it? It's too big to transport."

"Well, the shuttle bay is just about the only place we can put it then." Tom said. "It should be able to fit through the doors, and there's enough space in the empty docking cradle to store it."

"Yeah but, can we do this?" Harry asked nervously. The young man was still rather green around the edges, and was sometimes reluctant to speak up in staff meetings. "I mean, it may be abandoned, but it's not ours. Doesn't taking it go against the Prime Directive?"

"Technically yes." Janeway replied, sensing that this wasn't going to be as clear cut as she first thought. "And in the alpha quadrant, no doubt a dedicated science vessel would be dispatched to investigate it in-situ. Unfortunately, we are not equipped for such a task nor do we have the luxury of being able to stop for long. If we think there's something we can learn from this artifact, we'll have to do it on the go."

"The extra power source could definitely be useful, regardless of anything else." B'Elanna added. "Assuming it's safe and I can find a way to integrate it into Voyager's systems. I'd need to study it further to be sure."

"_Assuming_ it's safe." Chakotay cut in. "Tuvok, would this thing be a danger to Voyager if brought on board? Do we even know enough about it to be sure?"

"As I said before, the power source is stable; however there are always potential risks." The Vulcan replied impassively. "We would need to take every precaution possible to ensure the safety of this vessel. Were it to be brought on board, we would need to maintain a level ten force field around it at all times as well as a constant security detail. At least, until we are able to ascertain that it does indeed pose no threat."

"That's a big drain on resources." Chakotay said, scratching the tribal tattoo on the side of his head; a gesture he tended to make when he was pensive or nervous. "Is it worth it? Curiosity aside, we have to think how this would benefit Voyager, and aside from the extra power, we don't know if this cube has anything useful."

"The cube would have been constructed for a purpose." Seven pointed out, glancing at the Captain. "A species intelligent enough to create such a device would not do so for no reason. It is possibly a probe, in which case, it may contain valuable astrometric data."

It was a good point, although Janeway resisted saying as much. The past couple of days had made her wary of how she acted around Seven. She was very cognizant of how much she favoured the young woman sometimes, and she was suddenly nervous of what the other members of her senior staff thought about it.

"Captain. There may be a way around this." Tom's brow furrowed as he worked over an idea in his head. "We're assuming we have to bring the cube to us, but what if we went to it? I could take a small science team with pressure suits out on the runabout. If Voyager could tractor beam the cube, they may be able to land on it and get a closer look…see if it looks dangerous or not and if there's anything worthwhile on board."

"A logical suggestion." Tuvok agreed, eyebrows rising slightly as if surprised that it had come from Paris.

Janeway mulled it over. It minimised the risk to the ship, and it would give them a better idea of what they were dealing with.

"Very well. I think that's our best bet, unless anyone has any objections?"

When no one spoke up, she continued.

"Okay. Tom, I want you to pilot the shuttle. Tuvok, you go too and do a thorough risk assessment of the device. B'Elanna, Seven, I want you two in charge of the science team. Consult with the relevant group heads and get their suggestions on which officers are the most qualified to take with you. No more than five; let's keep this expedition as small as possible until we're sure it's safe. Once we know more, we can decide whether or not to bring it onto the ship."

Janeway hesitated about assigning Seven to the team. There was always a certain degree of risk involved in any initial away mission; crew members had been severely injured, and even killed before. She didn't doubt Seven's abilities for a moment, but there was so much that could go wrong; that was out of their hands and impossible to predict until the worst had already been done. The idea of that happening to Seven was…she didn't think she could live with the guilt if her orders resulted in the young woman's death.

Which was a big problem.

She was the Captain, and she couldn't let her fondness for the Borg override the fact that she was one of the most obvious choices to send. Seven's technical and scientific knowledge would be invaluable during the initial assessment.

_That's why you can never be with her._ Janeway repeated to herself. _It would distort your command perspective._

_It already has._ Kathryn pointed out.

Clearing her throat, the Captain addressed the room again, hoping to shift her mind back to the situation at hand and away from her beguiling astrometrics officer.

"Alright people, let's get to work. I want the shuttle ready to go within two hours. Dismissed."

* * *

Ensign Sayuri Yoshida gulped, swallowing down her apprehension and clutching her case full of data padds nervously as she entered the shuttle bay. From her position on the raised catwalk, the voluminous room looked like a great insect hive, with crewmembers bustling about all over the place in preparation for the shuttle's launch. She paused, trying to pick out the rich blue of the other science team members' uniforms amongst the crowd. After thirty seconds of fruitless searching, she finally located them, right next to the runabout. It looked like they were getting prepped to embark.

_Damn it, I'm already late._

The diminutive woman hurried along the walkway, forgoing the wait for the elevator in her haste, and instead opting to take the ladder. It immediately occurred to her that she may have made a mistake, as she tried desperately to keep the case she carried from slipping out from under her arm while she climbed awkwardly down. She'd nearly made it to the bottom when it worked loose.

"Ah!" She cried, trying to catch it again with her one free hand and somehow managing to get her limbs tied in a knot. With all the dignity of a beached whale, she fell the length of the last couple of rungs, landing on her back with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. At the same time, the case she'd been carrying impacted on the deck with an almighty crash, spilling padds everywhere and drawing the alarmed gazes of most of the crew in the room.

_Oh god._

Sayuri jumped to her feet as quickly as she could, breathless and blushing furiously. Her embarrassment only intensified when she looked up to see that the nearest crewmember was none other than Commander Tuvok, who was now regarding her with the same sort of scrutiny with which she might have observed an alien insect.

"Ensign Yoshida, are you injured?" He enquired, approaching her while carefully avoiding the padds which covered the floor.

"N-No sir." She mumbled, having extreme difficulty meeting his eye, yet knowing it would be rude and unprofessional to look away.

"Very well. Once you have…recovered your personal items, report to shuttle dock two. We will be departing in ten minutes."

"Yes sir." She said quickly, already stooping over and grabbing the nearest padds, stuffing them back into her case as fast as she could. She could feel her cheeks burning red hot under the Vulcan's gaze.

Tuvok turned to go, before adding.

"I trust you will display more coordination in your examination of the alien artifact."

Feeling like she was back in her first day at the academy, all Sayuri could do was nod mutely. It seemed to be enough for Tuvok, who left to join the others at the shuttle.

_Way to make a good first impression._ She thought, feeling something akin to disgust, directed at herself. _Late and clumsy. Commander Tuvok must think really highly of you._

The Vulcan security officer had always scared her, or perhaps it was Vulcans in general. They were so impassive, yet it always seemed that they could tell everything about you from the briefest of glances. Around Tuvok, she felt like she was wearing a giant neon sign which listed all her inadequacies and failings. Now she had probably just confirmed his suspicions.

Needless to say, it had been something of a shock when she'd been told to report to the shuttle bay and suit up. Being picked for the away mission was the last thing she had expected. Normally, the only times she got to leave the ship were during shore leave, or on a particularly big scientific expedition where all the science officers were needed. Now, she was part of a select team of the five 'most qualified' individuals on the ship. She wouldn't be surprised if it was some kind of mistake. Perhaps her personnel file had been mixed up with someone else's; Lieutenant Parker's for instance.

Grabbing the last of the padds, she was dismayed to find that her rush in returning them to the case meant she was unable to shut it. There was no time to take them all out again now though. Feeling her blush return full force, Sayuri picked the case up, hugging it to her chest to prevent it from bursting open, and half-walked, half-ran to the others.

When she arrived, the rest of the team were already pulling on their pressure suits, with the exception of Tom Paris who would be sealed in the cockpit for the duration of the mission. They acknowledged her arrival with a few nods, but nothing more. Sayuri was used to that. She wasn't exactly the most social person in the world, and was the only person there from her department; xenobiology. Aside from the other science officers, there was B'Elanna Torres and, Sayuri felt her stomach spasm slightly in panic, Seven of Nine.

If there was one person on board who scared her more than Tuvok, with the possible exception of the Captain herself, it was Seven of Nine. The ex-Borg possessed the same, unnerving perceptiveness that Vulcans displayed, but whereas Tuvok seemed completely unfazed by everything, Seven seemed actively critical. On the few occasions her and Sayuri had worked together, she had been able to sense the Borg's acute annoyance at everything she did. It was no secret that Seven disliked working with others, preferring to do things in her own, more 'efficient' way; a fact which apparently brought her into frequent conflict with the Captain. Sayuri wondered how formidable Janeway must be when angry, if she was able to outmatch Seven in a battle of wills.

"Ensign Yoshida." The blonde said impassively, fixing Sayuri with a gaze which made her feel about two inches tall. "You should consider practicing your punctuality."

"Sorry ma'am. I-It won't happen again." Sayuri wondered just how often she'd be apologising on this mission. Probably a lot.

The Borg woman had finished donning her spacesuit, and now stood in her customary pose; at rigid attention with her hands clasped firmly behind her back. At her full height, she towered over the smaller Asian woman by a full foot.

"Let us hope not. Do not make me withdraw my recommendation that you accompany us on this mission."

"You put my name forward?!" Sayuri blurted out before she could stop herself.

Seven regarded her quizzically.

"Indeed. You are a specialist in xenobiologoy, with additional expertise in xenolinguistics, are you not?"

"Y-Yes." Sayuri said uncertainly, thankful that her sudden outburst hadn't drawn a reproach from Seven. "But…last time we worked together…you didn't like…that is to say…you didn't seem to find me satisfactory…ma'am."

Sayuri's eyes almost burst out of their sockets in surprise when Seven looked away, cheeks colouring imperceptibly with…embarrassment?!

"I believe I may have been in error." The Borg woman said stiffly. "After consulting with Kath - the Captain, and reviewing your work, I found it…acceptable."

Sayuri had no idea what to make of any of what she'd just seen, but she was glad to hear that Seven didn't just consider her dead weight. Before she could say anything more however, the rest of the group started making their way onto the shuttle. Seven nodded at her, and followed the others, as Sayuri put her case on the floor and quickly scrambled to get her suit on.

_What just happened?_

Seven had been…nice, at least by the Borg's standards. She'd apologized too. That was very different to how Sayuri remembered her from the last time they worked together. Then again, that had been six months ago at least. It seemed that Seven was continuing to adapt to her humanity, and Sayuri suddenly felt a pang of compassion for the other woman. She had never disliked Seven per-se, but she had seen her as utterly intimidating and unapproachable. Perhaps that was beginning to change. Sayuri hoped others would notice it too. She knew what it was like to be lonely; Seven could do with a friend.

Quickly, she finished doing up her suit, grabbed her case, and rushed onto the shuttle just before the doors began to close. Taking the last available seat, she fastened the harness over her chest, and let out a brief sigh of relief. All she had to do for the next ten minutes was sit still. Even she couldn't screw that up, right? There was a quiet murmur of excitement throughout the shuttle, as everyone eagerly anticipated what they were about to find. Sayuri couldn't help but feel a bit exhilarated too, despite her nerves. Even though she felt out of her depth among all these strangers and superior officers, she could still feel the lure of the unknown calling to her. This was, after all, exactly what she had signed up for.

"Helmets everybody." B'Elanna said, and the chatter was replaced with the clicks and hisses as people locked their headgear into place and suits pressurised.

Sayuri could hear faint conversation from the cockpit as Tom Paris reported to the Captain. Then, with a jolt, the shuttle lifted off the deck, and they were away.

_To boldly go where no terrified young science officer had gone before._

* * *

Seven regarded the young officer across from her; Ensign Sayuri Yoshida. She was a short, lean woman of Japanese descent, with straight, shoulder-length, raven-black hair and, to coin a phrase that Kathryn had used once, big 'doe eyes'. Before, the physical appearance of the Ensign would have been irrelevant, but since her talk with the Doctor, and the revelation that it was okay to be attracted to the same sex, Seven had spent a great deal of time re-assessing the female members of the crew, and documenting her body's reaction.

Many of them were attractive, and Seven considered that Ensign Yoshida could fall into that category. Her high cheekbones, button nose, and timid, hazel gaze were all aesthetically pleasing. Yet, like with others she had deemed acceptable, she found herself unable to reproduce the emotions which she felt when she looked at the Captain. It appeared then, that there were two forms of attraction; physical, which depended solely on the individual's body structure and facial features, and emotional, which was influenced by the individual's personality or some other, unknown factor that Seven was not aware of. It was the only explanation for why she considered females like Ensign Yoshida attractive, but did not feel the urge to copulate with them like she did with Kathryn; at least, not to the same degree. The same was true of B'Elanna Torres. That also demonstrated that it was possible for physical attraction to exist without any form of emotional compatibility, since her and the half-Klingon were almost always…'disagreeing' seemed too mild a term.

Perhaps she could use this shuttle ride to gather some data. She had done some research on Voyager, but she needed more practical experience in how to approach others on a romantic level. The science officer opposite her seemed a suitable starting point.

"Ensign Yoshida." She began, remembering the importance of manners, especially when dealing with someone she did not know well. "May I ask you a question?"

The younger woman looked at her with surprise; a common expression for her, Seven noted.

"Yes ma'am, what do you want to know?" Her voice was muffled by her helmet, or perhaps she was just speaking quietly. Seven had observed that the Ensign was often 'shy', and reluctant to talk unless addressed directly.

"Are you attracted to females?" Seven asked.

Sayuri continued to demonstrate her impressive ability to modify the colour of her facial skin. This time, it turned pale, although a rosy still hue clung to her cheeks and neck.

"I…I…Ma'am, I…" She stammered. Seven observed the phenomenon with interest. Would Kathryn behave the same when she approached her?

"W-Why do you want to know…ma'am?" Sayuri finished eventually, glancing around the cabin furtively. Seven noted that they were separated enough from the others that their conversation would be inaudible over the sound of the engines.

"I am trying to ascertain an acceptable manner for discovering this information." Seven explained. "Was my query sufficient?"

"I…well, it was a bit, erm…blunt." Sayuri seemed very uncomfortable. Seven did not understand why. She had simply asked a question.

"Does this inquiry trouble you?" She asked. If it did, then perhaps she would have to reconsider her method for approaching Kathryn.

"Seven, it's…it's quite a private topic. M-Most people may feel uncomfortable talking about it."

"Why? Is attraction to the same gender a cause for embarrassment?" Seven got the feeling that, like with so many other aspects of socialisation, there was more to this than she had originally anticipated. Why did humans persist on making their interactions so inefficient?

"N-No, not at all Seven, uh, ma'am." The Ensign squirmed in her seat. "People just like to keep their private lives, um, private. I-I mean, if you have to ask, it means it's not public knowledge, which means the person probably wants to keep that side of their life to themselves."

"I see." Seven grimaced slightly. This was a setback. It appeared she would have to ascertain Kathryn's preferences through some means other than directly asking. "So you do not wish to tell me if you are attracted to females."

"W-Well, if you must know." Ensign Yoshida's face turned a darker shade of red, and Seven wondered if the woman might have some form of circulatory problem. "I…I have been, in the past."

"So do you identify yourself as heterosexual or homosexual?" Seven felt like she was making progress. If Ensign Yoshida tended to be attracted to males, but had in the past been attracted to females, it was proof that such an outcome was theoretically possible for her and Kathryn. "Did these women return your attraction?"

"Well…n-no…I don't know. I-I never asked them." Sayuri's eyes were downcast, and Seven got the impression that she had upset the other woman, although again, she was not sure how. "If I had to guess though, probably not. I don't think they ever even noticed me."

Seven was about to say more when Tuvok's voice cut through the cabin.

"Perform final suit checks. We are nearing the target."

* * *

Sayuri was glad of the sudden bustle of activity, as everyone double checked their pressure seals and gathered their equipment. Her conversation with Seven had been awkward to say the least, and was heading into territory she didn't like to visit too often. Namely, her own, non-existent love life.

_Maybe it was better when she simply found me a nuisance._

That wasn't really fair, Sayuri though. The ex-Borg was clearly still unsure about a great many things. Sayuri herself had difficulty socialising and fitting in, and she'd had a whole lifetime to practice, whereas Seven had only had a few short years. If she could help the other woman, she should, regardless of how embarrassing it might be. At least Seven had made the effort to speak to her about something other than ship business, unlike pretty much everyone else.

Tuvok approached the rear hatch of the shuttle craft, magnetic boots clanking as they engaged and disengaged from the hull.

"Release harnesses and attach safety lines." He said, switching to the comm to issue orders to everyone clearly.

Sayuri did as she was told, struggling to keep a lid on the butterflies in her stomach. Although she was certified for zero-gravity, extra-vehicular work, this would be the first time she'd done so outside the holodeck. Of course, the chances of anything going wrong were minimal, and even if she did somehow come loose, Voyager could simply beam her back aboard. She tried to remember that, although it wasn't quite enough to quell her irrational fear.

Seven glanced at her, and Sayuri realised she had been breathing rather loudly in an effort to stay calm.

"Do not be concerned Ensign." The Borg said, and Sayuri swore she could detect an edge of softness to her otherwise hard tone. "Based on the available data, I have calculated our odds of termination to be as low as 1.3%."

"Wow. 1.3%? That little, huh?" Sayuri didn't feel particularly reassured, but she appreciated Seven's effort to comfort her. It was another surprise, coming from someone who had previously deemed all emotion irrelevant. The thought was what counted, although next time, perhaps Seven could steer clear of using words like 'termination'.

"I've got us as close to the artifact as I can." Tom's voice sounded over the loudspeaker in the rear compartment. "Which is pretty damn close, if I do say so myself. Voyager's tractor beam is holding it steady. She's all yours."

"Popping the hatch." B'Elanna warned.

The back door opened, and a rush of air surged past Sayuri as the shuttle's atmosphere escaped into space. The science team stood firm, magnetised to the deck. Once the roar of the wind had died down, Sayuri was greeted with the deathly silence of the vacuum. The only noises she could hear were her own breathing, and the muffled clang of boots on metal which were transmitted from the floor and up through her suit. Slowly, the occupants of the runabout shuffled towards the exit.

When it was Sayuri's turn to jump, she felt her breath leave her lungs in a startled gasp.

It was beautiful.

She'd spent most of her life on starships, yet looking at a viewscreen, or even through the big windows of the mess hall did not compare to being truly surrounded by the endless emptiness of space. Now, she was standing on the precipice of a bottomless chasm, hanging on to a tiny piece of metal for dear life. Even Voyager seemed miniscule compared to the crushing expanse around her; one minute fleck of grey against the star-studded night.

Looking down, she could see the alien artifact a few metres below, wreathed in the ethereal blue haze of Voyager's tractor beam. The members of the away team who had already disembarked clung to its surface like limpets as they began their scans. It was like something out of an Escher painting, watching people walking along one face, at complete right angles to those on another. The lack of gravity was disorienting, so Sayuri just focussed on the small spot where she intended to land.

She jumped.

For one nerve-wracking moment, the irrational fear of losing herself in this eternal nothingness returned, and she wasn't jumping, she was falling; falling forever into the uncharted depths of an uncaring universe. Then her feet touched down on the cube, and she both heard and felt the reassuring whir of her boots attaching firmly to the surface.

Time to get to work.

* * *

Captain Janeway paced in her ready room. The behaviour was undisciplined, she knew, but she felt like she had to at least keep her body active, if nothing else. It had been several hours now, and her restlessness was beginning to return. If there was one thing that agitated her more than doing nothing, it was doing nothing while the ship stood still.

The latest report from the team on the cube had stated that Seven and one of the science division's Ensigns, Yoshida, if she recalled correctly, had discovered a possible way to open the artifact. Another report was due soon; the final one before they made the decision on whether or not to take the cube with them. Janeway found herself hoping; irrational, wild hopes that gnawed at her patience. What if the object could be used to power Voyager? How might they be able to upgrade their systems with what would be, essentially, a second warp core? What if it contained even more than that? Blueprints for alien technology? What if, somehow, it could get them home?

Of course, such thoughts were foolish at best, and self-destructive at worst. Chances were that the artifact, while interesting, would not be able to benefit them in any tangible way. As Captain, she had to take the pessimistic approach; to be ready for the worst, when it inevitably came. It wouldn't do to pin her hopes on wild speculations.

"Captain, the science team is hailing us." Chakotay's voice sounded over the comm. "They sound pretty excited."

_Odd._ Janeway thought, even as she purposefully strode onto the bridge. _They weren't supposed to report for another fifteen minutes._

"On screen." She ordered.

B'Elanna's face, partially obscured by her helmet, appeared on the main viewer. She was back on board the shuttle, and behind her, Janeway could make out various science team members eagerly scurrying about.

"Captain." The half-Klingon said, her own voice slightly breathless. "Sorry for contacting you guys early, but we've found something that we thought you'd want to see."

"Not a problem Lieutenant." Janeway replied, feeling her own anticipation building. "What is it?"

"Seven and Ensign Yoshida were able to open a small section of the cube's hull, and, well, switch to my helmet cam and I'll show you. It's probably easier than trying to explain."

Janeway nodded at Chakotay, who tapped in a few commands on his terminal. The view on the screen abruptly shifted to a first person-perspective of what B'Elanna was seeing. The engineer turned and made her way out of the shuttle, hopping back onto the cube with practiced ease, and headed towards a tall, elegant figure that could only be Seven. The Borg was surrounded by several members of the science team, who were all intently studying something on the cube's surface.

"Coming through," B'Elanna said as she got closer, squeezing past the others. "I've got the Captain on the line."

Janeway rose out of her seat, taking a few steps forward to get the best possible view. B'Elanna bent over to observe what the others had been looking at, and Janeway couldn't help but let out a small gasp of surprise.

Some panelling on the outer face of the cube had been slid back to reveal a window into its interior. There were only a few flashing lights inside, but B'Elanna's suit torches illuminated the cavity well enough to make out its contents. Within, buried back in the alcove and partially hidden by what looked like piping, was a humanoid face. The rest of the figure wasn't visible, but it was unmistakable; there was someone, or something, inside the cube.

"The figure appears to be in some form stasis." Seven's voice came through. "However there does not seem to be a way to open the object without exposing him to the vacuum of space. If we wish to revive him, it must be done on board Voyager."

"That's what the power source must be for." B'Elanna added. "Keeping this guy alive. This doesn't seem like a ship though; more like a giant coffin or escape pod."

"Are we even sure he is still alive?" Janeway asked.

"Too much shielding to get a clear reading." B'Elanna replied. "But the cube's systems are all still functioning. This seems like an awful lot of tech to support a dead person, and if he was alive when he went in, I'd say there's a very good chance he still is now."

Janeway drew in a deep breath. This changed the situation. Regardless of anything else, they now had a duty to ensure the survival of this individual. She could see little alternative.

"Very well." She said. "Tuvok, have you completed your risk assessment of the object?"

"I have Captain." The Vulcan replied, and B'Elanna turned to face him. "I can detect nothing which could constitute a threat, beyond possibly the individual himself. He will need to be kept under guard once revived."

"Naturally." Janeway glanced at Chakotay, who nodded his approval. "In that case gentlemen, pack up and return to Voyager. Once you're aboard, we'll tractor in the object. In the meantime, start reviewing your findings and find me a way to get it open."

* * *

Two hours later, Sayuri was assembled in the shuttle bay, along with the rest of the science team and the senior officers. Before them, the dark cube sat on the deck, looking distinctly out of place and alien amongst the sterile whites and greys of Voyager. Despite some people's fears, it hadn't suddenly exploded or flooded the room with toxic gas. In fact, it was just as inert as when they found it. All that was about to change however, once they began the activation sequence which the other researchers had deduced. Sayuri just hoped they knew what they were doing.

Captain Janeway stepped forward, although Tuvok had insisted on keeping a protective wall of security officers between her and the cube, in case its occupant was hostile. The yellow-shirted guards were arrayed around the object, phasers drawn and ready to fire. Off to the left, the Doctor waited nervously; also ready to step in, in the likely event that whoever came out of the cube would require medical attention.

"Do it." The Captain's voice was firm, and Sayuri trembled slightly. She never wanted to be on the receiving end of a lecture from Janeway, that was for sure.

B'Elanna tapped in some commands, and the whole room waited with baited breath.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, a series of clanks and whirs resonated from deep within the cube. The noises echoed around the room, until the entire shuttle bay was filled with the sounds of heavy, grinding machinery. Plates on the surface of the cube began to shift, sinking deeper into the structure then sliding apart. As they did, smoke billowed from within, cascading over the artifact's faces and covering the floor like dry ice. Some of the assembled crewmembers looked around nervously, but the Captain held her ground, eyes fixed on the opening which had been created in the cube's surface.

Once the smoke had cleared a bit, Sayuri got her first glimpse of their guest. Pistons shifted, bringing him forward from within the confines of his chamber and out into the light. It was only then that she realised it was not a man at all, or even an alien.

He was a machine.

The figure was held in a crucified position by a mass of tubes and clamps which locked into his chromed metal skin. He was impossibly shiny, reflecting the shuttle bay and the crewmembers in a warped reflection, like a funhouse mirror. Overall, his form was humanoid, although four arms emerged from his torso, held in place like Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. His head too was elongated and noble, with crest-like protrusions fanning out from the top.

It was a sight to behold. The science team's initial tests had placed the cube at over 60,000 years old. This mysterious figure was a remnant, perhaps the sole-surviving remnant, of a bygone age. An age which, from the looks of it, had been far in advance of their own.

With a series of popping sounds, the tubes disengaged, bursting loose and leaking the remnants of some viscous, blue fluid onto the floor. The figure began to stir, his arms flexing in their constraints. As if it had been choreographed, everyone present, including Sayuri, took a small step back.

Suddenly, the man's eyes snapped open, and the last clasps holding him in place disengaged. Now free, he fell the several metres to the deck, landing on his hands and knees with a crash which shook the entire room, and left a sizeable dent at the point of impact. Sayuri could see the nearest security officers clutch their weapons more firmly, keeping them trained on the new arrival.

Slowly, the figure rose, residual smoke cascading from his muscular frame. He stretched his arms experimentally, which Sayuri now noticed had two elbows. Aside from that, nobody moved a muscle. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and it was several, agonising moments before the Captain finally spoke.

"I am Captain Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager." She greeted. If she was at all scared, which Sayuri was sure she must be, she did an exceptional job of hiding it. "On behalf of myself and my crew, I would like to welcome you to our vessel, and extend an offer of medical aid."

Abruptly, light burst from the figure's eyes. A two dimensional, holographic grid extended from them in arc and swept across the room. After repeating the process several times, it disappeared again. Still without saying a word, the synthetic man took two steps forward, to where B'Elanna stood at her console. The half-Klingon seemed unsure of what to do, but at a small gesture from Janeway, she backed away slowly.

Sayuri watched, half in fascination, half in terror, as a long, thin, metal spike emerged from one of the man's many finger tips. He inserted it into the console like a needle, the point sliding effortlessly through the panel's casing as if it were wet paper. Janeway still made no move to respond, but another small movement of her hand sent Harry to a terminal on the opposite wall; no doubt to investigate what their visitor was doing and stop him if need be.

After less than ten seconds however, the figure withdrew the needle, retracting it into his body. Then, at long last, he spoke.

"Language identified: Earth, English. Cultural assimilation complete." His voice was neutral, but not as inhuman as Sayuri might have expected. It reminded her of Commander Data; the android serving aboard the Enterprise, who she had seen in vids.

Then, to the astonishment of everyone in the room, the figure began to transform. Even the stoic Captain Janeway recoiled slightly, mouth parted in surprise. The plates which made up his skin began to shift, rearranging themselves into a new form. Two of his arms folded down into his sides and were swallowed into his torso. His head too shrunk in size, crests retreating into his brow. By the time the mesmerizingly complex process was complete, he resembled a hairless, androgynous human, albeit with an Adonis-shaped body structure.

Sayuri stood rooted to the spot, utterly in awe of what she had just seen.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway." He stated, his voice carrying more inflection than before; almost melodious in its tone. "My name is…Mordecai."

"Mordecai." Janeway repeated. When the figure made no move to speak further, she prompted: "What do you require?"

The metal man smiled, and pointed directly at Janeway's chest. Sayuri saw Tuvok take a step forward, tensing in preparation in case he needed to defend the Captain.

"I want what you wear so proudly." Mordecai said, his hand beginning to tremble. "I want…a uniform."

Then he collapsed to the deck.


	4. Chapter 4: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Notes:**

Another chapter here for you guys. Sorry it took a little longer than the last one. I hope you enjoy it, and like usual, please take the time to review if you can. Enjoy :)

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 4 – A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing**

Captain Janeway, Chakotay, and Tuvok all stood in sickbay; watching intently as B'Elanna and the Doctor tended to their new arrival. It had been four hours since the synthetic being who identified himself as Mordecai had made his surprising request, before passing out; or whatever the mechanical version of passing out was. Since then, his name was still the most concrete detail they had.

"Look, I may be an engineer, but I didn't major in robosurgery!" B'Elanna said hotly, snapping at another one of the Doctor's sarcastic remarks. Janeway was getting heartily sick of their bickering, although she could understand where it was coming from. A snail's pace seemed like warp nine compared to the rate of progress they were making, and it had everyone frustrated.

"That's enough you two. Just concentrate on the job." The Captain cut in, forestalling the Doctor's comeback. She didn't like having to constantly crack the whip of command with them, but there were times when it was necessary to keep people focussed.

"I'm sorry Captain." B'Elanna said, dialling back the anger in her tone but not managing to completely erase it. "It's just that we're getting nowhere fast. None of our equipment can get a reading of any kind; we don't even know what material he's made from."

"Lieutenant Torres is correct in that respect at least." The Doctor said, and Janeway groaned internally. "I cannot recommend further procedures without sufficient data. We have no idea how he may react to our medical equipment, or if it would even work at all. As far as I can tell, he's just…switched off."

Janeway was about to reply, when the whoosh of automatic doors announced the arrival of someone else in sickbay. Turning around, she was pleased to see the familiar silver outfit of her astrometrics officer.

"I believe I might be able to assist Captain." Seven of Nine stated as she entered. "I have been reviewing the available information on Lieutenant Commander Data and the works of Dr. Noonian Soong. Although Mordecai's construction differs from that of Data, he is the closest comparison we have, and I believe it may be possible to apply some of the same theory here."

"Great idea." B'Elanna said, fixing Seven with an annoyed glare. "Machines working on machines. It will be like a regular family reunion."

"I said, that's enough!" Janeway favoured B'Elanna with a stare that could burn right through the hull, and even the temperamental half-Klingon withered a bit under her gaze. Turning back to Seven, who observed the exchange with passive interest, she continued. "If I recall, Commander Data had a positronic brain. Do you think Mordecai functions in the same way?"

"I am uncertain, however I believe the diagnostic tools which the Enterprise's chief medical officer used on Data may be able to yield better results than our current approach."

Janeway scratched the back of her head thoughtfully.

"Alright Seven, I want you to assist the Doctor and B'Elanna. Replicate whatever tools you need, and contact me when you have anything, or the second he wakes up." Janeway turned to her other two bridge officers. "Tuvok, make sure there's a constant security presence in sickbay. Chakotay, I'll see you in my ready room in fifteen minutes. We have some plans to make. In the meantime, resume our course. It's high time we got underway again."

Everyone nodded, and if B'Elanna was frustrated at now having to work with both the Doctor _and_ Seven, she mercifully kept it to herself. Departing sickbay, Janeway could feel the hectic day she'd just had beginning to catch up with her. Still, there was no time to rest. Mordecai could theoretically wake at any moment, and Janeway wanted to make sure she was there when he did. There were probably a million questions he'd want answered, and a million questions she wanted to ask him; not least of which was why a millennia old cybernetic organism had any interest in joining the crew of Voyager? At least, she assumed that's what he'd meant by 'I want a uniform'.

The captain headed for her quarters, intending to freshen up a bit before returning to the bridge. In truth, there was no real need for her to be there, aside from seeing Chakotay, but it had been a convenient excuse to get out of sickbay and away from B'Elanna and the Doctor's arguments. Of course, introducing Seven into the mix would hardly improve that situation, but if the Borg could help them make some progress, then hopefully they'd be too busy with work to take pot-shots at each other.

_It's like herding cats._ Janeway thought, smiling slightly. In fact, that was a pretty good description of being a starship Captain in general.

She had her own, personal reasons for wanting to leave sickbay as well; it meant she didn't have to be near Seven, and be forced to endure the increasingly insistent urges that generated within her.

_This has gone beyond a joke._ Janeway thought darkly. _How can the ship function if I can barely stand to be in the same room as a member of my own senior staff?_

The only way around this was to confront it, and she knew she was just delaying that moment. She'd just have to force herself to be around Seven, and learn to control her desires. If she could only manage to accept them as yet another burden she must silently bare, eventually they'd fade into the background along with everything else. As it was, she'd been avoiding Seven enough that the yearning came back full force every time she set eyes on beautiful Borg. If she kept it up much longer, Seven may begin to notice, and she owed the young woman better than that. She wouldn't cut herself off just because she couldn't seem to keep her damn hormones in check.

_I did say I'd help her move later this week._ Janeway pondered as she arrived outside her quarters, already both dreading and anticipating that particular day. _That should be a good time to acclimatise myself. Yes, a whole day off-duty with Seven should be more than enough to learn some self-control._

If only she could truly believe that. The Captain always preferred a head-on approach when dealing with conflicts; both internal and external. The only problem was, this time, she wasn't quite sure she'd win.

_At least I have the Mordecai situation to fall back on if I need an excuse._ Janeway thought.

_Coward._ Kathryn pointed out. She was right; and the Captain hated it.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a slightly refreshed Janeway made her way onto the bridge. She nodded at Chakotay as she did, and the first officer followed, handing the bridge over to Tuvok, who had requested to stay on duty until there was more definite news on Mordecai's condition.

"Coffee, black." The Captain said once she was inside, craving its stimulating effect perhaps more than was strictly healthy. "Do you want anything to drink Commander?"

"Just a water please." Chakotay replied, taking a seat on one of the sofas. Janeway retrieved his plain glass from the replicator, passing it to him before gleefully cradling her own brew and resisting the urge to down it in one. Instead, she left it on the table to cool, and took a position opposite her friend.

"What a day." She said, trying to relax as much as she could, which wasn't much.

"Indeed." Chakotay smiled sipping his drink. "Been a while since we've had one this busy. I'm sure science are happy that we've found them some new toys."

"Hardly toys." Janeway said, remembering the jaw-dropping way in which the synthetic man had changed his entire body to more closely imitate their own. "What do you make of this Mordecai?"

"I'm not sure I can make anything of him yet." Chakotay chuckled. "Except for the fact that he's a heavy sleeper."

Janeway allowed herself a small snort of amusement.

"I have to admit, I feared the worst when he didn't respond to my greeting." She reached for her coffee, happy to feel it was now a drinkable temperature. "I was almost sure we'd have a fight on our hands, especially after he started interfacing with the ship's computer. It seems like he was just downloading information though, which I can't say I begrudge him."

"Perhaps next time he could just ask." Chakotay took another gulp, eyeing the Captain over the rim of his glass.

"I would have preferred that." Janeway said. "But it must have been very confusing for him. Who knows what sort of culture he comes from? If they were a race of machines, maybe that's just how they interact."

"He would be an interesting addition to the Voyager family." Chakotay agreed. "I'm assuming that's what you want to talk about; his request to join the crew? We need a plan of action for when he wakes up…if he wakes up."

"I'm sure B'Elanna, Seven, and the Doctor are doing all they can." Janeway regarded her first officer. Chakotay was good at his job; something which Janeway was immensely thankful for. She didn't think she could have survived these past few years without someone reliable to fall back on. "As for his request, I see no reason to object. If he truly is willing, and if he's competent, I'm sure we can put him to good use. There's not really much else we can do, short of offering to drop him off on the next habitable planet."

"Voyager's acquiring quite the diverse selection of individuals." Chakotay noted approvingly. "Ex-Maquis, ex-Borg, delta quadrant natives, and now an ancient robot. Sometimes I wonder how you manage to keep us all together."

_Sometimes I wonder as well._ Janeway thought, but she didn't voice her concerns. That would be a bit too familiar, even with a close friend. Instead, she took a long drag of coffee, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Herding cats, Commander."

* * *

Seven stepped away from the biobed where Mordecai lay, unmoving, and inspected their handiwork. Between her acquired knowledge of android construction, B'Elanna's technical skills, and the Doctor's expertise with medical equipment, the three of them had jury rigged a device which should be able to revive the synthetic man. Seven calculated a 73.4% chance of success; much lower than her usual standards, but unfortunately the best they could do.

"I just hope he's grateful for all we've done for him." B'Elanna said. Her sulkiness had tailed off slightly once construction of their machine had begun, but she was still prone to the occasional quip. Despite that, Seven had found that working with the half-Klingon had not been as difficult as she had anticipated. Even with their wildly differing attitudes, she and the chief engineer had formed an efficient team. Perhaps it was because this was sickbay and not engineering, and therefore she was not 'constantly breathing down B'Elanna's neck', which is apparently what her presence in the engine room felt like.

"I wouldn't be too hopeful." The Doctor said, rubbing his bald brow. "Patients usually aren't."

"I will alert the Captain." Seven stated, tapping her comm badge. "Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway."

"Go ahead."

"Captain, we are ready to attempt the resuscitation of Mordecai. You requested that we inform you so you can be present."

"I'm on my way."

While they were waiting, the trio performed a few last-minute checks. Seven hoped they would be successful; she was…eager to talk to the newcomer. As a Borg, she had been a partially synthetic organism, and she still retained many inorganic components in the form of her implants. Being able to converse with a fully synthetic life form should prove to be an interesting experience. She wondered if he would possess emotions; something which Lieutenant Commander Data had initially lacked, but had later developed to a certain degree. In some ways, it reminded Seven of her own transition back to humanity, which was still far from complete.

Sickbay doors parted, and Janeway entered, flanked by Tuvok and Chakotay and followed by a couple of extra security personnel. As always, Seven's gaze was magnetically drawn to the compact Captain, who was currently in full command mode. Since realising her attraction to Janeway, Seven had begun to take note of many more aspects of the older woman's physical appearance. She found herself memorising seemingly irrelevant details, such as the subtle variations in Kathryn's scent at different tines of the day, or the way her pupils contracted or dilated depending on what she was observing. It was illogical to focus on these nuances, yet Seven found it surprisingly pleasurable.

Right now, Kathryn was very much the Captain. She wore a diplomatic smile, yet her jaw was set firm and her chin slightly upturned. Seven had seen the same determined expression many times before, whenever they first made contact with a new alien species. It was meant to leave people with no doubt as to who was in charge, and it rarely failed in its purpose. Even the Borg had taken note…Seven's presence on Voyager was living proof of that.

Janeway listened as the Doctor reported on their work. Despite the possibility that the device they had constructed would be incompatible with Mordecai's physiology, the Captain agreed that it was their best, perhaps their only, option. After briefly discussing with the rest of the senior staff, she nodded her head.

"Bring him around."

All the people present apart from the Doctor backed away, and the EMH erected a force-field around the biobed; an added security precaution, since they were still not completely sure of Mordecai's intentions. Were he to suddenly turn hostile, he would be incapable of damaging the hologram, and the containment field should be sufficient to keep him in place until he could be transferred to the brig.

For the second time in as many hours, everyone stood in silent anticipation, each nursing their own hopes and doubts about the stranger.

After about thirty seconds of inputting commands, the Doctor himself retreated a few steps.

"I've begun the neural reboot sequence." He said, for once forgoing his usual flair for theatrics. "If it works, he should regain consciousness momentarily."

Even as he spoke, Mordecai began to show signs of movement. First a single digit twitched, then a whole hand. The Doctor turned his attention to a few charts displayed on the wall monitor. Seven didn't know exactly what they meant, but the rapid spikes, and general shift in colour from red to green was an obviously good sign.

"It's working." The Doctor said, a small note of pride to creeping into his voice. "I'm beginning to get a signal."

Suddenly, Mordecai's eyes began to glow. For a moment, they blinked a rich, blood red, before returning to the cool blue they had been just after he exited the cube. A faint whine filled the room, similar to the sound of a large computer bank starting up. It quickly rose in pitch beyond the scope of human hearing; although some of Seven's Borg systems were still able to detect its presence. Mordecai began to stir in earnest, pushing himself into a half-sitting position with one hand. Seven noted the quiet mechanical whir as he moved; the sound of the thousands of tiny motors which animated his limbs. It was disturbingly similar to the noise of a Borg drone.

"Where am I?" He said, unblinking eyes sweeping the room and eventually settling on the Captain.

"You are in sickbay." Janeway explained with practiced charm, approaching the force field. "It is the primary medical facility of our starship, Voyager. You collapsed shortly after exiting the cube, and we brought you here."

Mordecai smiled. It was an odd sight, but Seven saw nothing to indicate it was any less sincere than a human expression. Perhaps this android was sufficiently advanced to truly replicate human emotions after all.

"I thank you Captain, and I apologise if you had any difficulty treating me. No doubt my construction is strange and alien to you. Whatever you did, however, it seems to have worked; my diagnostics report no problems."

"It was touch and go for a while." Janeway admitted. "But you owe your thanks to my chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres, my chief medical officer, the Doctor, and my astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine. They were the ones who devised the device." As she spoke, the Captain gestured to each crewmember in turn, and Mordecai followed her hands. When he looked at her, Seven felt a very odd sensation pass through her body. She could not adequately describe it; it was not inherently unpleasant, but if felt distinctly different to being appraised by a human or any other organic species.

"Ah, Seven of Nine." He stated. "There is a great deal about you in the Voyager archives. Is it true that you too once belonged to a cybernetic race? The 'Borg'?"

Seven was not entirely sure how to respond, unsure of whether she should discuss such matters with a stranger. The Captain had not given any orders to remain silent or withhold information however, so she simply said:

"I am formerly of the Collective. The Borg forcefully assimilate other species, using cybernetic implants to incorporate them into one unified whole with a shared consciousness. This happened to me when I was six years old. I was a drone, assigned to Voyager as a liaison during negotiations, however when the Borg attacked this vessel, Captain Janeway ordered me severed from the Collective. I have been a member of this crew since that point."

She realised after she said it that her retelling of events unjustly made the Captain sound unfeeling; almost cruel in her decision to force individuality upon Seven. Initially, that is indeed how the Borg had felt; scared, alone, and furious at the one who had done this to her. As time went on though, and more of her human qualities had begun to surface, Seven had come to realise what an immense gift Janeway had given to her. On an almost daily basis, she discovered new things about herself and the world around her; things which she had been denied as a member of the Collective. She would be forever thankful to the Captain for giving her a second chance at life, and on that note, she added:

"Although life aboard Voyager is very different to my past experiences, I do not miss the Collective. I am…glad that I had the good fortune to have been chosen as the Borg's representative, or else I would not be here."

"Interesting." Mordecai said thoughtfully. "I should like to discuss it more with you at a later date, if that is agreeable."

Seven wasn't sure what more there was to say, but she knew that Kathryn expected her to be polite, and she did want the chance to learn more about Mordecai, so she nodded her consent.

Turning back to Janeway, he continued:

"I should also apologise for accessing your computer banks without your permission. Rest assured I did not download any classified or private files; simply the contents of the public archive."

"I can understand the desire to learn more about your surroundings." Janeway replied evenly. "However I'm afraid you now have us at a disadvantage. With that information, you know a great deal about Voyager and its crew, but we know very little about you."

"I will be happy to answer any questions you have Captain." Mordecai regarded the array of crewmembers before him. "Or that anyone has for that matter. However, might I venture that this is not the best place to conduct such a talk?"

"Indeed not." Janeway's face hardened slightly. "Unfortunately, our regulations state that we must detain you for a bit longer, until we can be sure that you are not a threat to the ship. It's just procedure you understand. Once you're in the clear, we'll have a meeting to discuss further options."

"Of course." Mordecai turned to Tuvok. "You are the chief of security?"

"That is correct." The Vulcan replied, his face, as always, betraying nothing.

"Well, any tests or interviews you need to carry out, you are more than welcome. I wish only to set everyone's minds at ease."

"We'll arrange more comfortable guest quarters for you." Janeway said. "You can wait there until the probation period is up."

"Understood."

"Very well. Tuvok, can you accompany our guest to the ambassador's suite. I'm sure that will be sufficient for his needs."

"Yes Captain." The security chief waited as Mordecai eased off the bed. Then, gesturing to two of his men, the entourage departed sickbay. Seven saw Janeway's shoulders slump slightly once they were gone, and she realised the Captain was probably behind on her regeneration cycles again.

After a few moments, Janeway addressed the assembled group of senior officers.

"Well done all of you. I know you probably have a dozen questions, but I think they can wait until morning. For now, let's just leave Tuvok to it."

A general murmur of agreement buzzed around the room, and one by one, everyone began to depart. Seven considered staying behind to talk to Kathryn, but she could see the Captain surreptitiously stifling yawns, and she decided that she did not want to delay the older woman's bedtime any further. Kathryn's wellbeing was a priority.

Instead, she too left sickbay, heading back to her alcove in cargo bay two. She hoped that the arrival of Mordecai would not prevent the Captain from accompanying her when she 'moved in' to her new quarters later that week. Seven was 'looking forward' to spending the day with Kathryn, and more importantly, it was also when she planned to state her romantic intentions.

After considerable research and rejecting many alternate plans, Seven had settled on that particular meeting as the one which would provide the highest chances of success. They would both be off-duty, in an informal, private setting, which would help Kathryn relax. It was also a shared activity; a bonding exercise which would hopefully make the Captain emotionally 'closer' to her and more receptive to the possibility. Additionally, in the event of copulation, a bed would be easily accessible. She was unsure whether Kathryn was the type of woman who would 'put out', as Tom Paris had once said, on the first date, but she did not want to find herself unprepared if such an event occurred.

Seven felt a small shiver of nervousness pass through her at the thought of addressing the Captain on this topic. It was illogical; she had never been afraid to ask the older woman anything before. Then again, those queries had simply been requests for information or clarification, not something Seven had a personal interest in. What if the Captain refused her? She had read that requests for the commencement of romantic relationships were not always successful; in fact, they often failed. Seven found that speculating on such an outcome produced very unpleasant sensations in every part of her body, and she quickly stopped. She was aware that negative emotions could often cause physical discomfort; however it also seemed that even the possibility of negative emotions could produce the same effect.

Arriving at her alcove, Seven decided that she needed to further increase her chances. She must be prepared for every possibility, every obstacle that could prevent her desired outcome. As she keyed in the familiar commands to begin her regeneration cycle, she pulled up a copy of the Starfleet Captain's Handbook on her console. She knew that Kathryn upheld the ideals contained within it as much as possible, and often fell back on them when she was unsure of what to do. Although unlikely, it was possible that this book might contain regulations which would be detrimental to her efforts; passages which must be carefully analysed and dissected. Kathryn was very logical, for a human, and Seven knew that if she could provide convincing counter-arguments, the Captain would most likely accept them.

At least, that's what she hoped.

Seven queued the document to be processed during regeneration. That way, she could assimilate all the information while she 'slept', and would be ready to begin analysis as soon her cycle was complete.

_Failure is unacceptable._

* * *

At noon the next day, Captain Janeway made her way to the ambassador suite, her stride confident and rejuvenated. Last night had broken her streak of insomnia, and for the first time in more than a month, she had been able to get a truly restful night's sleep. The fact that some of her dreams had contained the comforting embrace of a mysterious stranger; tall, blonde, and female, was something which sat less well with her.

_Just some wistful dreams._ She reminded herself. _It's nothing you haven't dealt with before._

_ Well, if dreaming about Seven is what you need to snooze soundly, then I guess you'll just have to make that sacrifice._

Janeway briefly wondered if debating with herself internally was indicative of some kind of psychiatric problem. Then she decided that she really didn't want to know the answer to that. Pushing her thoughts to one side, she focussed on the task at hand; it was high time she became properly aquatinted with this Mordecai. Tuvok's report indicated that the Vulcan did not believe he was a threat, and that he considered it safe for Janeway to see him, provided a security contingent was kept outside; ready to be on hand in case they were needed. He left the final decision on whether to allow Mordecai free roam of the ship to the Captain's discretion. Janeway trusted her security chief's judgement, and in truth, shared his assessment. Mordecai had done nothing to indicate he was anything other than sincere, and she didn't want to damage their relationship by treating him like a prisoner when there was no need. If he wanted to join the crew, he'd need to learn to trust her, and in that respect, it was her responsibility to make the first gesture.

Arriving outside, she nodded at the two guards on duty, and buzzed herself in.

Mordecai was sitting at the desk, one hand typing on the personal work terminal, and the other holding a padd, which he was studying intently. He looked up as the Captain entered, and a broad smile spread across his face; something Janeway was still getting used to seeing.

"Captain." He said, rising to his feet and coming around the desk to greet her. "It is a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise." Janeway acknowledged, gesturing to the seats arranged next to a coffee table. "I've been looking forward to talking properly. I trust the quarters are satisfactory."

"I require very few comforts Captain." Mordecai replied, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. Much like Seven, he sat in a very rigid manner; back perfectly straight and legs bent at ninety degrees, although he rested his hands on his knees. "These quarters are more than adequate. In fact, you may relocate me if you wish. All I require is access to a computer terminal."

"That can be arranged, so long as you're sure." Janeway was struck by how polite he was; not something one would necessarily expect from an android. Not that she didn't appreciate it; she'd certainly had her fill of rude, vulgar, and pugnacious species in the delta quadrant. Then again, Voyager had also encountered many who appeared amenable at first, only to reveal their true nature later. She wasn't ready to let her guard down just yet. Not before she had a more thorough impression.

"I want you to know that Commander Tuvok has cleared me to release you." Janeway continued. "He's satisfied that you are not a danger to the ship."

"I'm glad to hear it." Mordecai said. "We had a most pleasant discussion yesterday evening. The Vulcans are a fascinating people, if Tuvok is any indication. I admire his logical approach."

"He is good at his job." Janeway agreed. "And if he thinks you pose no danger to this ship, then that's good enough for me."

The Captain took a moment to study Mordecai, appraising him in her head. Ordinarily, she could glean a lot of information from both her friends and her foes just by studying them. She'd made a point of meeting with every crewmember personally at the start of their commission, forming her initial opinions and trying to get a feel for the people she'd be leading and figuring out the best way to mesh them together into a smoothly operating machine. It was also an important skill when encountering another race; knowing when they were scared or angry, knowing when they were lying, knowing when to call their bluff and when they were being serious. The task proved much more difficult with Mordecai; he was completely alien, and Janeway found she didn't even know where to start. He had no tics, no involuntary facial expressions to indicate what he was truly thinking. His smiles may be genuine, but they were as precisely controlled as the way he sat, and gave nothing away. Even as she raked her eyes up and down his sleek metallic form, he regarded her completely impassively. It unsettled Janeway, but then again, it was unfair to see it as suspicious. Mordecai couldn't help being the way he was.

"I'll save my many questions for the staff meeting." She said at last. "There's just one thing I'd like to ask now."

"Go ahead."

"Why do you want to join Voyager's crew?" It was something Janeway had been puzzling over ever since he'd made the request. She could think of several possible reasons, but she wanted to hear it directly from him. Perhaps it might finally give her some insight into his character.

For the first time since awaking, Mordecai did not reply right away.

"I know what it is like to be far from home." He said eventually, and this time Janeway could definitely detect something in his tone; a note of underlying sadness. "When I assimilated the information on Voyager, I discovered your predicament. It is not something I would wish anyone to suffer, and I feel that it is my duty to offer you my assistance. Besides, I have nowhere else to go. As you may have figured out already, I am the last remnant of my age. Your ship's logs speak of the camaraderie of the crew. It is something I wish to have the chance to…experience. To feel like I belong again."

_Well, as answers go, that's a pretty good one._ Janeway admitted to herself. If what he said was true, then it was just about the best outcome she could have hoped for.

"Well put." She answered, allowing a genuine smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. "Come, I'm sure the others want to meet you properly. You can sit in on our staff meeting, and we'll discuss what your options are."

"I would be honoured."

Janeway stoop up, straightening her uniform. It occurred to her that Mordecai still didn't have any clothing; something they should probably rectify soon. His form was androgynous, and there was nothing about him which was impolite to show in public, but it was still slightly odd. Still, perhaps he would be wearing a Starfleet uniform soon. Janeway thought it might look good on him.

As they left, the Captain dismissed the security officers with a curt nod. It might have been safer to keep them around, but she had to start treating Mordecai like an ally at some point if he was going to be staying, and now seemed as good a time as ever. She found herself wondering how the metal man might fit in. He had been perfectly amicable so far; certainly more willing to cooperate then the latest addition to their crew before him, Seven of Nine.

_God, what a struggle that was._ Janeway thought, remembering how many times the Borg had defied her, both publically and behind closed doors. She didn't like to admit it, but a small part of her respected Seven for her wilfulness and even, she grudgingly accepted, found it attractive. One disobedient crewmember was quite enough however, and she was thankful that Mordecai seemed to have a slightly better grasp of the command structure. Perhaps he had been studying.

"What were you working on back there, if you don't mind me asking?" Janeway enquired as they navigated towards the turbolift.

"I was reviewing your Starfleet regulations and training." He replied, confirming the Captain's suspicions. "It appears to be a prestigious organisation. I understand there are a strict series of tests one must complete to be allowed entry."

"That's correct. It's one of the things we'll discuss in the meeting."

The lift deposited them on the bridge, which was already running under the temporary skeleton crew who were covering for the absent command staff. As the two of them made their way into the conference room, Janeway was keenly aware of the hush which immediately settled over the group, as everyone subtly, or not so subtly, turned to peer at the newcomer. With a small grimace to indicate her mild displeasure at the display, she took her seat at the head of the table, and Mordecai sat down in the space which had been left empty next to her.

The Captain cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention back to her and why they were here.

"Alright, if we're all present, let's get underway. I'm sure you all remember our guest, Mordecai."

Janeway made the rounds, introducing everyone officially, although Mordecai undoubtedly knew it all already from the ship's database. Once the pleasantries had been observed, she turned her attention back to the metal man.

"Well, now that you know everyone, perhaps you can fill in some details about yourself; where you're from, and how you ended up drifting through space in that cube."

"Of course." Mordecai said, readying the needle instrument from his fingertip. The Captain recoiled slightly, instinctually trying to put some distance between herself and the potential weapon. Mordecai smiled apologetically, and indicated the table's control panel with a nod. "May I?"

"Go ahead." Janeway straightened out her features, erasing any concern which had been displayed and returning to polite interest. Mordecai inserted the tip of the spike, and the console blurred with images and text as his history was downloaded into Voyager's computer.

"I'm sure those of you who were responsible for reviving me can attest to the alien nature of the materials from which I am comprised." He began, eyes scanning the room with focussed intent and lingering on the Doctor, B'Elanna, and Seven. "There is good reason for this. Having reviewed your database, I have found that several of these substances have never been observed in your universe."

"Excuse me," B'Elanna cut in, immediately picking up on his phraseology. "but…'our universe'?"

"Indeed." Mordecai said. "For I am not originally from this universe."

He glanced around again, and Janeway could see the shock on several people's faces. She hoped that she was doing a better job of concealing her own.

"Then where?" She managed at last.

"A parallel dimension…at least, that is the simplest way of envisioning it. Unfortunately, many of my memories from that time were distorted when I crossed over. I have only impressions now, rather than distinct images. In my universe, I was a member of a race of sentient machines. We were the caretakers of the galaxy, existing timelessly in the empty void beyond the outer rim and observing the younger races. Through the gifts of technology and guidance, we nurtured them into a prosperous age of peace and enlightenment, promoting order and rationality. Sadly, it did not last. Agents of chaos arose, wanting nothing more than to undo all we had accomplished and cast every civilisation back into the dark ages. We tried and exhausted every other possibility, but were eventually faced with no option other than all-out war. And for a time it seemed that we were winning. We reclaimed countless worlds from the insidious influence of these anarchists, and it looked as if we might drive them out for good. However it had been a ruse; a stalling tactic while they prepared a weapon of mass destruction designed to end the war in one killing blow. They used our synthetic nature and our own technological gifts against us, perverting the travel network we had established to use as a conduit for a powerful energy wave which destroyed all technology. I had been spearheading the final counterattack, attempting to disarm the device, but I was too late. The earliest clear image I have in my mind is a great flash of crimson light, then the nothingness of the space between realities. I do not know what happened, but perhaps the fact that I was at the very epicentre of the blast somehow saved me. The energy was so immense…I can only assume it tore a hole in spacetime through which I fell."

Janeway could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Yet, at the same time, what would Mordecai stand to gain by fabricating such a story? It was times like these she envied Tuvok's rational detachment.

"In any event, I eventually found myself drifting aimlessly in space." Mordecai continued. "After travelling for some time, I was picked up by a passing cargo transport, the occupants of which identified themselves as members of the Skyrion Empire. They are the ones whose form I was emulating when you first freed me from the cube. For a while, I made my home amongst their people. Having lost everything I had once known, and with no way to return, I resolved to use my knowledge to help the civilisations of this universe as best I could. However, the Skyrion Empire was a harsh, oppressive regime. Once word of my existence reached the ears of its rulers, they tracked me down. They feared what they did not understand, and what they could not control, and eventually decided to dispose of me. By that time, I was well-known enough that they could not simply make me disappear. Instead, they arrested me for some fabricated crime, and imprisoned me within the cube; a vessel they called the Eternity Ark. I was held in suspended animation, and the next thing I know, I am in the shuttle bay of your spacecraft, 60,000 years later. The Borg information Seven of Nine provided to the Voyager archives indicates that the Skyrion Empire and its people are no more, the areas of space they once inhabited now colonised by a multitude of other, younger species."

No one spoke for several seconds; each absorbing and processing the multitude of information Mordecai had just given them. It was Seven who broke the silence, her mind no doubt capable of analysing his words faster than anyone else's.

"In all the documented cases of the Federation encountering parallel dimensions, they have always borne a notable resemblance to this one." She said, her tone neutral, although Janeway thought she detected a hint of scepticism. "Are there any such similarities that you have observed?"

"My understanding of the multiverse theory is limited." Mordecai admitted, shifting position so he could more clearly see the Borg who sat at the far end of the table. "However I have some hypotheses which may explain my observations. If we consider many separate universes propagating through time, each created by a differing outcome to a probabilistic event, there will be many which are nearly identical to the one you inhabit. These universes will exist 'closer' to your own, in a tenth-dimensional sense of course, and are more prone to intersect in the event of some kind of trans-spacial disturbance. I believe that the proximity of the universe you encounter is directly linked to the amount of energy used to create this disturbance. It is akin to many sheets of parallel metal, each representing a different reality. If a ballistic projectile is fired at this arrangement, the amount of sheets it will penetrate through, and thus its displacement from its original position, is determined by its kinetic energy. In my case, the sheer power unleashed by the device was enough to hurl me through many such membranes, and I find that this reality is quite different to my own. My first act upon arrival was to attempt to make contact with my kind, but it appears that they do not exist within this dimension, nor does the relay network we established to enable faster than light travel. There may be similarities, but unfortunately, my recollection of the time before my crossing over is too indistinct to remember specific details."

"You said that you were drifting in space when you arrived?" Harry asked, brow furrowing in mild confusion. "Without a ship?"

"Correct. My people did not utilise space going vessels like you do. Our bodies are capable of withstanding exposure to the vacuum of space, and we travel under our own propulsion."

"So you're saying you have your own warp drive?" B'Elanna interjected again.

"Not quite." Mordecai chuckled. "Although I am capable of FTL speeds, I do not possess an Alcubierre drive like Voyager. That being said, with access to the schematics, I may be able to replicate one effectively. It would be an interesting project, no doubt."

The conversation continued in that vein for almost an hour as the crew plied Mordecai with questions. Janeway was ready to step in if need be and save the poor man from the innate curiosity of her staff, but his pleasant demeanour didn't falter, and he happily responded to each and every inquiry. Although his initial story had seemed almost laughably far-fetched, Janeway steadily grew to accept it, as Mordecai provided as much detail as he could on every aspect of his past. The thing which really floored her, however, was when the discussion turned to his joining the crew.

"As I said before, there are certain tests which must be completed satisfactorily in order to be granted admission into Starfleet." She said, after Chakotay had raised the topic in a good-natured effort to get the meeting back on track. "Normally this would be accompanied by several years of training at Starfleet Academy, however, that may be rather difficult in our situation."

A small ripple of laugher echoed around the room, and Janeway carried on:

"It is within the power of the Captain to grant civilians honorary ranks if the situation is fitting and they display the necessary aptitude. To be honest, out here in the delta quadrant, we could always use an extra pair of hands, and it certainly seems like you have the knowledge. Nevertheless, you will be required to take the admission tests."

"I understand Captain." Mordecai answered solemnly, switching to addressing her by rank in preparation. "When shall I begin?"

"Whenever you like." Janeway replied amicably. "I imagine you will want some time to prepare."

"I do not believe that will be necessary." Mordecai replied. "I will attempt the test now, if that is acceptable."

"Now? As in, right now?" Janeway frowned. "Mordecai, I'm not sure if you understand. There are a minimum of twenty separate theory papers; the exam period usually lasts a month at least."

"I do not believe I will require that long." Mordecai replied, seemingly unaware of the impossibility of what he was saying. "You have ship's business to discuss before this meeting is concluded. If you permit me, I will sit the exams while you finish."

_I don't believe this. _Janeway thought, but she decided to humour him. If nothing else, it would give him a taste of the level that was expected when serving on a starship. Mordecai may have been a caretaker of the galaxy in his past life, but if he was truly serious about joining the crew, which it seemed he was, he'd have to start out at Ensign just like everybody else. A bit of humbling might be a good way to prepare him for that role.

"Very well." She said, aware of the amused looks of her crew as she retrieved a stack of padds, programming each one to display a separate paper. She handed them to Mordecai, who took them without hesitation, and did her absolute best not to smirk as he immediately engrossed himself in the first one.

"Right, back to business." Janeway cracked her voice slightly to stamp out the few snickers she could hear in the background. In truth, she felt like chuckling herself, but it was important to keep up appearances.

As each department head filled her in on what had been occurring that week, she idly glanced at Mordecai from time to time. To his credit, he hadn't given up straight away, although he had already set several padds aside.

Looking away, she was surprised to find herself locking gazes with Seven, who had apparently been studying her intently. Janeway wondered if it was because she was expected to say something, but she could still hear Neelix enthusing away in the background, uninterrupted. It sounded slightly muffled; as if all her senses were tuned to the woman before her, and she found herself having difficulty looking away. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a fleeting moment, she spied something in the depths of Seven's eyes which she couldn't identify, but which made her whole body tingle pleasantly. Then, to her utmost surprise, Seven broke the contact, glancing away almost bashfully; a faint reddish hue colouring her otherwise alabaster cheeks.

_Is…is she blushing?_ Janeway was utterly stymied. There wasn't much that could cause the usually unflappable Borg to lose her composure.

Oh god, how had she been looking at her? If her eyes conveyed even half of what she was feeling inside, then even Seven wouldn't have been able to miss the longing. Was that why she was embarrassed? Surely she…

"If I might interrupt Captain, I have completed the tests."

Janeway jumped slightly at the unfamiliar voice next to her, and turned sharply to see Mordecai holding out the stack of padds.

"Completed?" She said, glad to have the distraction, but not so sure about the truth of his statement. "You've completed all of them?"

"I have."

"Uh, well." Janeway turned to her crew, who were all looking equally nonplussed. "I'll run the marking program."

She took the first padd and set the program running. Then she ran it again. And again. And then one last time just to be sure. Then she went through it manually, picking out several questions she knew the answers to and comparing her knowledge with what Mordecai had written.

_This isn't possible._

The numbers didn't lie however.

Feeling the colour drain slightly from her face, she accessed next padd. It was the same story there. And on the next one. And…well, by the fifth, she was hardly surprised to see the result. By the time she'd run the program on the last one, she was glad that she was sitting down, or else she may have felt slightly weak at the knees.

"Captain?" Tom asked, craning slightly to try and see the padd she was holding. "What is it?"

Janeway didn't speak. Instead, she pressed a button, activating the small display screen behind her. She trusted it would be self-explanatory.

On it, a table of paper titles was displayed; twenty in total. Next to one was the label 99%.

Next to the rest, was 100%.

"Damn." Mordecai said. "I knew I'd forgotten to take into account the Lorentzian contraction of the Einstein-de Sitter metric for the curvature of space time at the point of singularity. I…"

He tailed off when he realised no one else was talking or even really listening to him.

After a few moments of incredulous glances being exchanged, Janeway cleared her throat, ensuring that her next words would be audible.

"Welcome to Starfleet, Ensign Mordecai."


	5. Chapter 5: Ensign Mordecai

**Author's Notes:**

Hey guys. Another chapter for you. I hope you enjoy it :) If you do, or even if you don't, please leave a review and let me know what you think.

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 5 – Ensign Mordecai**

Sayuri awoke with a start to the sound of her comm badge chirping insistently. Rolling over, and stifling a groan of protest, she blearily scrabbled around in the pool of uniform she'd left on the floor last night, searching for the small metal device through half-lidded eyes.

_Who would want to talk to me this early?_ She thought, somewhat irritably. Her shift didn't start for another two hours yet, and she had never, in all her time on Voyager, been urgently needed outside of her scheduled work day.

"Ensign Yoshida, this is the Captain." The raspy, commanding tone echoed around the room, distorted somewhat by the small speaker in the badge, but still demanding respect. Sayuri blanched as she heard it, heaving herself up onto all fours and frantically going through the rest of her clothes with renewed vigour, finally locating the communicator in one of the trouser legs, where it had apparently come loose and slipped when she'd undressed.

"Y-Yes Captain." She stammered quickly as she fumbled the device, aghast at how croaky and dry her voice sounded. There was a brief pause, and Sayuri could only tremble in anticipation of the lecture she was about to receive.

"I'm sorry if I woke you Ensign." Janeway said, softening imperceptibly. "But I have a special assignment for you; one which I think would be suited to your talents. It will replace your usual work immediately and until further notice, unless you have any objections?"

"N-No ma'am, that is, yes ma'am, what do you need me to do?" Sayuri was relieved that she wasn't in trouble for taking so long to answer the hail, but her fear was replaced with a nervous apprehension of what Janeway would ask of her. It must be important, if the Captain was speaking to her about it directly. She could count the number of times that had happened on one hand.

"Our guest, Mordecai, has applied for a position in Starfleet, and I have decided to grant his request. I need someone to show him around; to give him an idea of how Voyager runs and to help him acclimatise. Seven of Nine suggested that you would be suitable for the role."

_What the hell gave Seven that idea?_ Sayuri wondered, glad that the transmission was audio only so the Captain couldn't see her mouth flapping like a fish as she struggled to find words. No doubt the Borg thought she was doing Sayuri a favour, and while she was grateful that Seven had considered her, she wasn't sure what she could possibly do to help an ancient robot settle in when she herself still felt like an outsider. There was also a rumour going around that Mordecai had aced every Starfleet entrance exam in twenty minutes. If that was true, then she was hopelessly out of her depth. She'd scored highly on the tests herself, but that had been after months of solid revision.

Still, Janeway was the Captain, and presumably she knew what she was doing. Sayuri just hoped against hope that she'd somehow manage to pull this off without making a total ass of herself. After all, Seven's reputation was now riding on her as well; it would make the astrometrics officer look rather foolish if the person she recommended turned out to be utterly useless.

_How did I suddenly get into a situation where I could quite easily end up disappointing the two most frightening women on the ship? Oh God, please let this be a nightmare._

"I'd be honoured, ma'am." She said out loud, managing to keep the panic from creeping into her voice. "When do I begin?"

"Mordecai's shift starts in an hour. I've got him scheduled to spend about a day in each department at first, starting with yours. I want you to keep an eye on him; see what role he seems to be best suited for."

"A-Aye ma'am."

"Very good. Report directly to me if any issues arise."

The line disengaged, and Sayuri felt an ominous cloud of dread settle over her. It wasn't in Seven's nature to lie, but clearly she must have phrased the proposal in a way which greatly exaggerated the young Ensign's talents, either intentionally or by accident. With a resigned sigh, she dragged herself fully out of bed and into the bathroom, staring dejectedly at the person she saw in the mirror.

_What will I say to him?_ She thought, realising that she should start mentally preparing herself now if she didn't want to embarrass herself later. _I don't even know where to start._

Of course, she could think of any number of questions she wanted to ask Mordecai, but it didn't really seem appropriate to bother him with them when she was meant to be the one showing him around. He would be with her to find out about Voyager, not vice-versa, and she really didn't want him to see her as a nuisance.

Sayuri had just finished her morning routine, and was about to get changed, when a beep indicated that someone was outside and wanted to come in.

_Oh God, who is this now?_

"Computer, who is at my door?" She said; quietly, in case they could hear and might be offended that she'd ask rather than just let them enter.

"Ensign Mordecai." The dulcet, feminine voice replied, as if the words weren't some of the most terrifying that Sayuri had ever heard.

_Oh shit._

"C-Come in." She said instinctively, although it was barely more than a frightened squeak which left her throat.

The doors parted smoothly, and Mordecai stepped inside. He was tall, at around 6'3", but he radiated a presence which made it feel like he filled the entire room. Lidless eyes swept across her quarters, glowing with the richest sapphire blue that Sayuri had ever seen. As they came to rest on her, she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was clad only in her night dress. His gaze was piercing, and she got the impression that he could see right through the thin fabric if he wanted to.

Unlike the last time she had seen him, albeit briefly, he now wore a blue Starfleet uniform. It clung to his frame, almost like a second skin, hugging the curvature of every sculpted muscle beneath. Except, she reminded herself, it wasn't real muscle; just an imitation to make him appear more human.

_Still, he's…handsome._

Quite where that thought had come from, and what on Earth it said about her, Sayuri didn't know, but she was flabbergasted that it was popping up now, right when she wanted to try and make a good first impression. Instead of smiling and smoothly introducing herself like she'd briefly rehearsed, she glanced away, attempting to conceal the red flush of embarrassment which quickly crept into her cheeks.

_Wow, I'm hopeless._

She had little doubt that Mordecai saw absolutely everything, but he seemingly had the good grace to not mention it. Instead, he spoke, and Sayuri found her gaze being drawn back to him despite her urge to flee into the bedroom and lock the door.

"Ensign Yoshida." He said, tilting his head slightly in a respectful greeting. "I apologize for arriving early and unannounced. I thought it would be agreeable if we could talk before our shift begins and get to know each other a bit, since we'll be working together for the foreseeable future."

"I…" Sayuri really didn't know what to say in response, so she settled for a stalling tactic. "I…yes…of course. I just need to go…change…be right back."

She half-scrabbled, half-backpedalled back into the bedroom. It was only when the sliding doors had swished shut, shielding her from view, that she let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Sayuri knew that she couldn't take too long before Mordecai would begin to wonder what the problem was, but she allowed herself a minute to bury her face in her hands, trying to organise her thoughts and slow her racing heart.

_You can do this. Come on, deep breaths. Just focus on making it through the next minute without doing something stupid, and repeat until the day is over._

Seeing as that was probably the best plan she would come up with, Sayuri quickly recycled her uniform and pulled on the brand new set. She briefly considered popping into the bathroom and neatening herself up in the mirror, but decided she couldn't afford the damage that seeing her reflection would do to her confidence. Right now, she needed every last meagre scrap she could muster.

Returning to the door, she took a tremulous breath in a futile effort to steady her fraying nerves.

_Here goes nothing._

Sayuri stepped out and glanced around, stymied for a moment when Mordecai was not where he had been before. Then she spotted him next to the window, inspecting one of her photos which rested on the shelf below. He was gazing at it with an utterly inscrutable expression; not that Sayuri had ever been much good at reading people anyway.

"The humans in this picture." He said, turning to face her. "If I may ask; who are they?"

Sayuri drew closer. The photo he was indicating showed a middle aged Japanese man and woman, dressed smartly and smiling at the camera. In the background, the red columns of the Golden Gate Bridge were just about visible, snaking away across a wide, open bay.

"I-It's my parents." Sayuri replied, feeling a small lump come to her throat like it always did when she looked at the picture for long. "It…It was taken on the day of my graduation…from Starfleet Academy."

"Ah, they are your progenitors." Mordecai glanced at the photo again, nodding in understanding. "It must have been a proud day for them."

"It was." Sayuri agreed, looking at the happy couple wistfully. "They were so pleased when they heard that I'd got my commission on Voyager. If only they'd known…"

Feeling like she might cry if they continued, Sayuri quickly changed the topic.

"A-Anyway, do you want to go to the mess hall? We can get some food before our…that is…if you…" She trailed off uncertainly, only realising once she'd started talking that she actually had no idea whether Mordecai even needed to eat.

_Only a minute before your first stupid blunder. Congratulations, that's a new record._

"I do not require organic nutrition; however, your metabolism rate indicates that you have not yet had breakfast." Mordecai replied, smiling. "So yes, the mess hall would seem like a good place to start."

"T-Thank you." Sayuri said, although she was not entirely sure what she was thanking him for. She also decided that she really didn't want to know how he could tell what her metabolism rate was, for her own peace of mind.

_Oh God._ She thought, as they left her quarters. _How am I ever going to make it through today?_

* * *

Captain Janeway shook her head vigorously, trying to clear it enough to focus on the report in front of her. In truth, the details of what the science team had uncovered so far from the cube were actually quite fascinating, and on any other, it would have absorbed her completely. As it was though, she was barely able to read more than a few sentences before she realised that ten minutes had passed and she'd become utterly side-tracked, staring off into space with an unfocussed, glassy-eyed gaze.

She couldn't stop thinking about Seven. Janeway had hoped that the fact that she had hardly seen the Borg woman these past few days would have been enough to put her out of her mind, but it seemed that her rebellious subconscious had decided to compensate for the lack of visual stimulation by conjuring up images of its own. Quite improper, impossible images…

Alone in her ready room, she had the good grace to blush with slight embarrassment. These really weren't the kind of things a starship Captain should be thinking about, especially while still on duty. If she caught any other members of her crew daydreaming like she was and slacking on their duties, she'd have had a few words to say to them. It wasn't fair that she indulged in it herself.

_Oh why not?_ Kathryn piped up. _If you're not going to let yourself have Seven, at least allow yourself to fantasize. You've got to find some sort of middle ground or you'll drive yourself crazy._

_ I'm debating with myself in my own head._ She thought ruefully. _I'd say that's already happened. And besides, it's not a question of 'allowing' myself. Seven has expressed no interest in me whatsoever._

_You don't know that unless you ask. Do you really think Seven, a novice to humanity, can figure this out by herself if you can't? Perhaps she doesn't even realise you're an option._

_ Well that's fortunate then, because I'm not._

_ Suit yourself. I can wait._

"You'll be waiting a long time." Janeway growled, abruptly standing up. This was getting her nowhere fast; she needed a coffee, and to get this damned report over with. Stalking over to the replicator, she ordered her usual mug of piping hot caffeine, and was just retrieving it from the alcove when her door chime sounded.

"Come." She called, smoothing her tone into something a bit more neutral than she felt.

The doors parted, and Janeway felt her stomach sink as Seven of Nine entered, her demeanour as cool and mechanical as ever. At least, that's what the Captain told herself. The softening of Seven's stern expression and the flicker of warmth which crossed her eyes were probably just tricks of the light. Yeah…definitely…the light.

"Seven." Janeway greeted, ignoring her nagging uncertainties. "What brings you here?"

"Captain." The Borg woman replied, and Janeway thought she could detect a trace of unease in the way she said the word. It would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but the Captain knew Seven well, and found that she had learnt to read her tiny 'tells'.

"Is something the matter?" Janeway asked again, concerned when Seven made no move to elaborate or come further into the room.

"I am unsure." The other woman replied, brow furrowing slightly. "I…It is nothing. I am wasting your time. Forgive me."

She turned abruptly to leave, and instinctively, Janeway reached out and placed a hand on her upper arm, halting her before she reached the door. Seven seemed surprised at the contact, but it had the desired effect of stopping her walking out. Instead, she turned back to face the Captain, although she made no effort to remove the older woman's hand.

"It's clearly not 'nothing' Seven, if you felt the need to come all the way to the bridge to see me about it." The Captain replied, smiling, but suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was still touching Seven when there was really no reason to do so. In what felt like a slightly awkward gesture, she removed her hand, surprised at how warm and tingly it felt.

"Why don't you have a seat?" She continued, knowing the Borg would probably refuse, but feeling the need to sit down herself.

"I pref…" Seven began, then in an almost unprecedented event, seemed to change her mind. "Thank you."

She took a place on the settee opposite Janeway, her posture immaculate, as it always was on the rare occasions she agreed to be seated. The fact that she had done so with very little resistance was unusual. Janeway didn't know whether to be pleased or worried.

"Now, what's troubling you?" She asked, mentally going over a list of the most likely causes of Seven's unease. The younger woman often came to her when she had questions regarding humanity or social interactions, but she sensed that wasn't what was on Seven's mind right now. It was possibly a personal problem; some new biological function reasserting itself after years of being supressed by Borg technology. In that case though, surely she would have gone to the Doctor rather than her?

"I believe I have made an error in judgement." Seven stated evenly, although her inflection betrayed the difficulty she felt in admitting it.

"How so?" Startled, Janeway wondered where this was going. To her knowledge, Seven hadn't made any mistakes in her work lately. In fact, she rarely made any at all, full stop.

"I…I suggested that you assign Ensign Yoshida as Moredcai's liaison, but I…" Seven stopped again, grimacing with extreme annoyance. "…I do not know how to explain."

"Just take your time." The Captain urged gently, used to having to slowly tease information from Seven when she was feeling confused or vulnerable. "Why don't you start at the beginning? Do you think you were wrong to make that suggestion?"

"I do not doubt the Ensign's abilities." Seven said slowly, clearly picking each word with deliberate intent. "But, I doubt Mordecai. I…it is illogical, he has done nothing, and yet I mistrust him. He gives me a bad 'gut feeling'. I fear I have endangered Ensign Yoshida by assigning her to him."

"Endangered?" Janeway's eyes widened in alarm. Seven wasn't the sort to use hyperbole, and yet, she could think of nothing which would make the Borg come to that conclusion. "Well, firstly, before we go any further, let me remind you that you didn't assign her Seven, I did. You merely suggested a candidate; if it had not been her, it would have been someone else. Even if something were to happen, I'm the one responsible, not you."

Seven seemed to consider that for a moment, before finally nodding. That was another ominous sign. Janeway doubted very much that Seven truly agreed with what she'd just said, but if she was willing to concede the point, it could only be because she had something more important to say.

"I understand. However I do believe he is a danger to this ship. We should not have brought him on board. We…"

"Seven." Janeway cut in, holding up her hands to stall the Borg's tirade. "I know I told you to trust your instincts, but you have to understand that you can have a 'bad feeling' about someone for any number of reasons. It doesn't mean they're dangerous or hostile."

"Explain." Seven said, and Janeway could only chuckle at how direct she was, despite her underlying concern. There were very few people, on Voyager or off, who could give the Captain an order and expect to get away with it, much less have it carried out.

"It could be that you simply dislike the person in question. Something about them irritates you or just doesn't mesh with your personality. Or maybe you're jealous of them."

"Jealous?" A hurt look crossed Seven's face, and Janeway realised that maybe she hadn't phrased herself very well. "Do you believe I am jealous of Mordecai? That would imply that you believe I am inferior to him."

"I didn't mean to imply that." The Captain replied earnestly, retreating into damage-control mode. "Sorry, it was a poor choice of words. I do not believe you are inferior to him at all. But I freely admit that I felt touches of jealousy myself, and I wouldn't be surprised if you felt the same. Seven, he surpassed every record for Starfleet aptitude tests with only five minutes of study; something not even Lieutenant Commander Data could achieve. His abilities are certainly exceptional, and a degree of envy is a natural, human response. It's not a good one, but it is normal. The important thing is being able to move past it. Mordecai may be gifted, but that doesn't make him superior to you, me, or anyone else."

For some reason, Janeway felt a need to have Seven agree with her on this; to make the younger woman understand. It was silly, she knew; as the Captain, she hardly required the approval of someone who was not even a member of Starfleet, and she certainly didn't have to justify herself to them. It also certainly wasn't the first time that she and Seven had butted heads over a decision, but this felt more important. Almost like it was a personal, rather than professional dispute.

"Seven, there were people who initially felt the same about you. I won't name names, but some people told me that they knew, on an instinctual level, that I was making the wrong decision." She continued, pushing harder. "They thought I was insane for allowing a Borg drone to remain on Voyager, much less letting her join the crew. Yet just look how time has proved them wrong. You have become not only a valuable addition to the crew, but a distinctive individual in your own right. Now, the ship can't do without you."

_I can't do without you._

Seven regarded her evenly, and this time Janeway truly was at a loss when it came to deciphering what she was feeling.

"Very well." The Borg woman stated eventually, and Janeway let out a small sigh of relief. "I will attempt to give Mordecai the 'benefit of the doubt', and reject my initial impression of him."

"I'm glad to hear it." The Captain said, downing the last dregs of her now lukewarm coffee. "And thank you, for making the effort. I can't order you to like him, but just try to give him a chance. Who knows? Sometimes it's surprising how quickly people can grow on you."

_Very surprising indeed, in some cases._

Seven looked at her, and Janeway was glad to see her small smile return as the mood imperceptibly lightened.

"How am I to know when I should trust my instincts, and when I should override them?" The Borg asked.

"It's a tricky one, and I'm not sure there is any definite answer." Janeway blew some air out of her mouth, leaning back on the sofa as she pondered Seven's question. "It's a balancing act, like so much in life I guess. Our instincts are sharp; they draw on subconscious knowledge we can't usually access; our primal ability to sense danger, or when someone is lying. But they can also be fooled. Humans evolved as prey animals, and we can often feel threatened when there is no real danger."

"Yet you are able to do it so well." Seven looked down, somewhat sheepishly, which just confused Janeway all the more. "You always know when to follow your 'hunches' and when to adhere to prescribed protocol."

"Can I get that recorded?" The Captain smirked crookedly. "Then I could play it back to you the next time you come barging in here to question one of my decisions."

"It is true that sometimes I do not agree with you." Seven replied quietly, her voice a soft contrast to her normal, clipped tone. "However, often, after the event, it is made clear that your course of action was indeed the best option. I find Starfleet an inefficient organisation, and yet, despite being part of this flawed system, you have managed to sustain this ship through adversity and almost certain destruction on many occasions. You have built a perfect machine out of imperfect parts; a contradiction to species like the Borg. I…'respect' you for it."

Janeway stared at Seven, stunned into silence by the uncharacteristic openness she was showing. The Borg was always a very honest person, yet she rarely, if ever, voluntarily displayed or spoke about her own personal feelings. It was why so many people on board saw her as the 'ice queen'.

_How can anyone think that? If they could see what I'm seeing now…_

"I never realised you thought so highly of me." Kathryn croaked, her throat suddenly very dry. It meant so much to hear such words coming from Seven. The crew respected her, or so she hoped, because of her rank. It was their 'job' to admire the Captain, and the mere fact she'd managed to get the position was enough for them. Seven, on the other hand, had made it clear many times that she cared little for the command structure. If she respected Janeway, it was because she had truly earned it.

"If you ever thought otherwise, then I was in error."

A moment of silence settled between them, during which Janeway just looked across the table at Seven, who had now returned to studying her intently.

She was so heart-achingly beautiful.

Sometimes, when it was late, and the Captain found herself wandering into cargo bay two to gaze on Seven's unconscious form, she found herself almost moved to tears by the sheer perfection of the Borg woman's porcelain features. She hadn't been willing to explain the upwelling of emotion at the time, but now, she knew what it meant. And now, faced with the same pair magnificent blue eyes, that same elegant, sculpted jawline, and those same luscious coral lips, she was gripped with an insane desire to throw everything else aside, and take them for herself.

_It would be so easy. Just close those last few feet and put an end to all your misery. She wouldn't resist. You heard her; she thinks the world of you, even though you don't deserve it._

In the end, it was luck which stymied her impure thoughts. She had been so caught up with the sight in front of her that she had quite forgotten the empty coffee mug she was still holding, which slipped from limp fingers to shatter on the deck.

"Captain!" Seven exclaimed, her voice disproportionately alarmed considering how minor the accident was. Janeway wondered if she too had been enraptured in the moment, and equally startled at its abrupt end.

"Oops, how clumsy of me." Janeway quickly got busy with gathering up the pieces, suddenly not trusting herself to look back up. Her resolve was hanging by a thread, and she feared that just one more glance would cause her to do something unforgiveable.

"Do you require assistance?"

"No." The captain said quickly, stalling over gathering up every last fragment. "No, thank you. I've got it. I think we're done here Seven. If there's nothing else, you can return to your post."

"I…" The Borg woman began, and Janeway's realised that there were any number of things Seven could say which would shatter her command mask completely.

"Yes, Captain. Goodnight."

Janeway didn't respond, and remained in her tensed, crouched position until Seven had left completely. She sensed the Borg delaying at the door, and could only imagine the look on her face, and then she was gone with a faint, pressurized 'whoosh'.

* * *

Sayuri entered the mess hall in a daze, her mind whirling from the day's events. She had expected Mordecai to be good, brilliant even, from the little she'd heard, but that hadn't stopped her from being utterly blown away when she saw him in action. Within an hour of arriving in the xenoscience department, he had translated an alien dialect they had been struggling with for months, found the underlying relationship between three previously unrelated genera of poisonous Actirian toads, and identified the culture of origin of seven unknown artefacts that pre-dated Voyager by tens of millennia. It had taken all her knowledge, not to mention physical fitness, just to keep up with him as he paced around the lab, seemingly able to do about five different things at once. He had explained that his synthetic mind consisted of millions of individual processes which could be compartmentalised into working on multiple tasks simultaneously. It was a difficult concept to wrap her head around, but its effectiveness was plainly evident.

Retrieving a tray of Neelix's most recent culinary 'masterpiece', Sayuri found her usual spot in the corner, away from the main hustle and bustle around the food counter. Mordecai had said he would join her once he had finished the chemoanalysis of a fungi sample from the planet they'd stopped at several months back. In truth, Sayuri was rather surprised that he wanted to come at all. He didn't need to eat, and she couldn't imagine that her company was really worth the effort, especially not for him. Of all the people on the ship, it was probably only Seven who stood any hope of holding a conversation at his level.

Still, whatever reasons he had for spending time with her, even if it was just politeness, she was grateful for it. He was one of the first on Voyager to do so; odd, considering how little they really had in common.

_Perhaps he likes having someone drool all over him like a lovesick puppy. Or maybe he enjoys having things pointed out to him five minutes after he's already figured them out._

Sayuri picked at her food dejectedly, and not just because it smelt like something she would have expected to find in a petri dish. It seemed to be a rule that the further out of her league someone was, or the more impossible a relationship would be, the more she was drawn to them. Mordecai certainly fit both those categories quite nicely, and as she could have predicted, she'd found herself spending less and less time actually working herself, and more and more time just watching his with what she suspected was the most stupid, awe-struck look on her face. There was something magnetic about him which completely swept her away.

It surprised Sayuri just how strong her attraction was. She felt like his alien appearance and the fact he wasn't even a biological organism should at least bother her a bit, but it didn't at all. All she saw when she looked at him was someone of exceptional ability, who still remained gracious and polite, even when confronted with the sort of bumbling fool most people didn't spare a second glance.

_Whatever, it's not like your feelings are important anyway. Mordecai will forget about you soon enough, as soon as he has the chance to speak with some of the other, more interesting members of the crew. Like, say, someone who can string a sentence together without stammering or blushing._

Lost in her melancholy thoughts, Sayuri didn't see the figure approaching the table until he was right on top of her.

"What's the matter little missy, all by yourself again?"

The young woman glanced up, and stifled a groan of annoyance as she recognised the brutish form of Ensign Chad Baker. The thickly built, ex-Marquis security officer had acted as if he wanted to befriend her when he first came on board, but his increasingly lecherous behaviour and propositions had quickly made it clear what was really on his mind. After summoning up the courage to turn him down and tell him to leave her alone, he had seemingly taken it upon himself to make her life as miserable as possible whenever he could. Thankfully, they worked different shifts, so rarely ran into another, but the occasional times when they did, like now, were always unpleasant.

"Actually, I am meeting Ensign Mordecai." She replied, hoping that would be enough to convince him it wasn't worth the effort.

"What, the jumped-up tin opener?" Chad sneered, laughing at his own joke. "Yeah right. You expect me to believe that? I don't see him, and besides, what would he want with you?"

"I don't care whether you believe me or not. It's really none of your business." Sayuri snapped, turning back to her food. She could feel her face heating up, only this time it was from anger, rather than embarrassment. What was this jerk's problem? Was he really still annoyed that she didn't put out for him that time? She may be lonely, but she hoped she'd never ever be that desperate.

"Well what if I want to make it my business?" Chad pulled out the chair next to her's and sat down, causing the item of furniture to creak slightly under his weight. Sayuri thought she could detect a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath. In the very short time that she'd actually known him, she'd discovered that he had a fondness for authentic spirits, using real alcohol rather than synthol.

Suddenly aware that she might actually be in danger, Sayuri grabbed the edges of her tray, intending to quickly dart away from the table and back into the better-lit, busier part of the mess. There was no way Chad would try anything with people watching, but hidden in this corner, and drunk as he apparently was, who knew?

A meaty hand grabbed her wrist as she tensed to rise.

"Hey, where you do you think you're going? I'm not done talking yet."

Sayuri was about to shout for help, when she sensed a presence coming up behind her aggressor. Twin points of blue light shone in the shadow behind him.

"If I were you, I'd let Ensign Yoshida go." Mordecai said, his voice completely calm.

Chad froze for a moment, but quickly regained his composure, leering arrogantly.

"So, she wasn't lying eh? I'll tell you now mate, you're wasting your time with this one. She's a frigid bitch and no mistake."

"You have two options, crewman." Mordecai continued. "If you release her now, apologize, and leave the mess hall, I will take no further action. Otherwise, this incident will be reported to the Captain."

"Ooh, you'll 'report' me?" Chad twisted in his seat to face the synthetic man, but didn't release his grasp on Sayuri's wrist. He was squeezing tightly, and it was beginning to hurt. "And who do you think the Captain would believe. A trusted Starfleet officer, or some metal freak from the Stone Age?"

"Firstly, might I remind you that I am also a Starfleet officer. Secondly, she will not need to 'believe' me. I am equipped with both audio and video recording capabilities, and have captured this entire exchange. Now, I say again; leave."

"You sure do talk pretty big." Chad finally let go, and Sayuri took the opportunity to duck out from behind the table, retreating out of arms reach. By now, a small group of people had gathered around the other two, probably because of all the heads Mordecai had turned when he entered the room.

The security officer stood up, kicking the chair aside. Sayuri heard someone behind, ironically, request a security team to come and break up the commotion; however it would take them precious seconds to arrive. She watched helplessly as Chad squared up to Mordecai, and prayed that the alien knew how to defend himself. They were the same height, but Chad bulged with stocky muscle as opposed to the metal man's more sculpted frame.

"Well, listen here, 'Ensign'." The burly man slurred. "We didn't need the Borg bitch, and we sure as shit don't need you. So why don't you just fuck off back to wherever you came from, huh?!"

What happened next was over in the blink of an eye, yet Sayuri saw it all. She didn't think she would ever forget it. Chad took a swing at Mordecai, right at his face. The synthetic didn't move a muscle. He let the punch land, and didn't budge an inch as Chad's fist cracked across his jaw with a sickening crunch. It was like the security officer had tried to floor a duranium bulkhead. He howled in pain, staring at his rapidly swelling, clearly broken hand.

Then, as if he was brushing lint from his jacket, Mordecai backhanded Chad across the chest. The force lifted the man, who must have weighed about 15 stone, clear of the deck, and sent him flying across the room to crash into an empty table, which buckled significantly under the impact. He tumbled heavily to the floor, scattering chairs, and lay there groaning but unmoving. As he did, Tuvok and two security officers came running in through one of the doors, phasers drawn.

"Report." The Vulcan barked, calm as ever, but raising his voice to ensure he was heard.

Everyone looked around in stunned silence for a few seconds. Sayuri wanted to speak up, to make it clear that Mordecai had just been defending her and then himself, but her courage faltered under Tuvok's piercing gaze. Fortunately however, she didn't have.

"It was Chad." Someone said. "I saw it. He grabbed the Ensign, and then attacked Mordecai."

This was met with a chorus of agreement from the other onlookers, and Sayuri herself felt a surge of gratitude. Clearly, the metal man hadn't been in any danger from on oaf like Chad, but that didn't change the fact that he had rescued her.

"Very well." Tuvok said, clearly satisfied with the eyewitness testimony of so many Starfleet officers. "Ensign Palmer, retrieve a stretcher for Ensign Baker and escort him to sickbay."

"Aye sir."

"Are you okay?" Mordecai asked softly, turning to Sayuri as Tuvok issued orders.

"Y-Yes, I think so." She glanced up at him furtively, hoping her expression made it clear how thankful she was. "I'm just a bit shaken. It-It could have been worse, if you hadn't come when you did."

"No matter what the time period or universe, there are always assholes." Mordecai replied solemnly, and actually Sayuri snickered slightly. It sounded odd to hear him use such an inelegant word that was so…human.

"Ensign Mordecai." Tuvok approached them as Chad was wheeled out, still moaning pitifully. "I commend you on your ability to handle the situation. Next time however, perhaps utilise a little less force. I'm sure the furniture would be grateful."

"Understood sir." The synthetic replied.

"I will need official statements from both of you, however it can wait until Ensign Baker is recovered. In the meantime, I advise you get some rest. Rest assured, he will remain in custody until this incident has been satisfactorily resolved."

"Thank you, sir." Sayuri mumbled.

Tuvok walked off, talking on the comm with the Captain and arranging for a cleanup team to come and repair the damaged table. Gradually, the rest of the crew began to disperse as well. A few of them uncertainly approached Mordecai, reassuring him that they'd speak on his behalf if the Captain decided to order an official inquest. Sayuri doubted it would come to that though. Chad was well known for his bullying, and had been on report many times for similar minor incidents. Were they back in the Federation, he would never have made it into Starfleet. Out here though, they needed every man they could get, and there was no doubt that Chad could hold his own in a fight.

_Well._ Sayuri thought, sneaking an admiring gaze at Mordecai. _Against most people anyway. No doubt he'll think twice before trying anything else._

"Were you able to eat before he accosted you?" Mordecai asked.

"N-No." Sayuri replied, only remembering what she had come here for in the first place when her stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl of protest. "It doesn't look like I will now though; Neelix is shutting up for the night."

"Perhaps you can replicate something."

"I wish I could." She said glumly. "But I've used all my ration slips for the week."

She didn't mention that she'd actually blown them all earlier that evening on a fancy dress she hoped would make her look less plain. It had been a stupid, impulsive decision which she'd immediately regretted. As if something like that would mean anything to Mordecai. Unless he came from a society which considered petite, skinny Asian girls attractive, she was undoubtedly wasting her time.

"You forget that I possess an internal reactor." Mordecai said, gesturing to the door. "It would be a simple matter to power the replicator for you."

For the umpteenth time that day, Sayuri was stunned into momentary silence. Just when she thought she was beginning to understand this strange, wonderful man, he came out with something which would be unbelievable if said by anyone else.

"I…" She could sense a small fluttering in her chest, accompanied by a kind of nervous anticipation which she hadn't allowed herself to feel for quite a while. "I don't know what to…thank you…I-I would be honoured."

"The honour is mine."

Mordecai smiled a dazzling, chrome grin, and in that moment, Sayuri knew she was in deep.


	6. Chapter 6: Dark Prophecy

**Author's Notes:**

Hey there guys. Sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter! It's been a while, I know. The next one should be along much sooner.

I hope you enjoy :) If you have the time, please do leave a review. They're always much appreciated!

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 6 – Dark Prophecy**

Seven awoke to the sound of screaming.

Her eyes snapped open, mind instantly alert and focussed on the disturbance. It was one of the perks of her Borg physiology, and the differences between regeneration and regular sleep, that she transitioned from unconscious to 100% aware in a heartbeat. Her cortical implant told her that her cycle had been interrupted and was incomplete; an unusual occurrence. Instinctively, she stepped from her alcove, and realised at once that something was very, very wrong.

She was no longer on board Voyager.

Her alcove was attached to a small piece of deck which had apparently been sheared away, as if by some form of cutting beam. It was buckled and charred around the edges, and rested on the ground like an island in the middle of the expanse she found herself in. The loss of power after it had been severed from Voyager must have been what caused her cycle to end early.

Surveying her surroundings, Seven was met with a vision of a hellish landscape, like something out of a nightmare. At least, she assumed this was what a nightmare would be like, never having experienced one herself.

The ground was pockmarked with an endless desert of craters and debris, churned into a charcoal mud which obliterated whatever it may have resembled before. Skeletal ruins of buildings clawed desperately from the shattered earth, blackened, charred, and forlorn. Fires burnt in all directions, some blazing strong as they gutted what little remained intact, and others smouldering quietly amongst the ashes. The air was full of the same grey, sooty dust. It hung like a miasma of pestilence above the carnage. Even the sky was a carnal shade of crimson; thick, swollen clouds dividing it into long, bloody streaks.

Seven could not identify which culture this was from the few tiny, distinctive pieces of architecture she could see. Whoever they were though, something awful was happening to them. She took some solace in the fact it was not the Borg, who would never indulge in such needless destruction.

Tentatively, she took a step forward, dismounting the small piece of Voyager and searching for somewhere to take shelter while she could attempt to ascertain what had happened. As she did, her heel pierced something on the ground with an ominous snapping sound. Looking down, she realised with a sense of revulsion that it was a skull. Beyond it was another, and then an almost fully formed skeleton. In fact, what she had taken for a slight unevenness in the terrain was actually a sea of desiccated remains. Most were nothing more than bones, presumably stripped bare by whatever conflagration had devastated this area, but some were still quite fresh. Seven tried not to look too closely. Whoever they were, they were not human, but bore a certain resemblance. The skull she had crushed was elongated, and some of the skeletons had four distinct arms.

She had seen such a form before. It was the shape Mordecai had borne when he arrived on Voyager.

Another scream sounded, nearer than before, and Seven could also make out a distant thundering rumble. It was accompanied by a bright flash of light. Quickly, she picked her way over the ash-choked, carcass-riddled ground to the cover of a blown out wall. Turning her gaze skyward, she found the sources of the disturbance.

Great, shadowy ships cruised through the sky like birds of prey on the hunt. It was difficult to tell, but from the speed they were moving, Seven surmised they must be massive; Dreadnaught classes many times larger than Voyager. Trails of bombs fell from their undersides, each one impacting on the planet's surface with a muted blast. In the distance, Seven thought she caught a glimpse of more intact areas through the haze, although these were quickly being reduced to rubble by the onslaught.

Suddenly, she was very afraid for Voyager, and for Kathryn. Had they stumbled into a warzone while she had been regenerating? Impossible. There had been no planets for days in every direction. Yet, here she was, and the rest of the ship was nowhere to be seen, although with so much wreckage everywhere, it was possible she was standing in the middle of it. Such thoughts were not productive however, so she worked under the assumption that she alone had somehow been removed from the ship and transported here.

Remaining low, Seven advanced with her back to the wall. She had no equipment, but her eidetic memory would allow her to find her way back to her alcove if need be. As she peeked round the corner, she got her first sighting of other life forms.

A small group of the four-armed aliens were hurrying along the street. Two of them were fully grown, but the other three were small; children, Seven guessed. This was presumably a family. They were clad in elegant, simple robes, which were now soiled with mud and soot. She could just about discern them talking in low, panicked voices, but the universal translator could not interpret what they were saying. She held back, not wanting to reveal herself. It was impossible to determine if they were armed, and in their distressed state, they may mistake her for an enemy.

Suddenly, a scarlet energy beam erupted from within a nearby ruined shop front. It sliced across the street and struck one of the taller aliens. He, for Seven thought it was a 'he', dived to the floor, but did not completely escape in time. The laser carved along his left hand side, severing one arm at the shoulder and the other at the elbow. He fell to the ground, screaming, as the others cried out in fear. A second bean came, this time finding its mark. Seven was glad his body was now obscured from view, but the sudden stench of burnt flesh which assaulted her nostrils told her more than enough. The other taller alien, the female, Seven assumed, made some form of keening noise which was unlike any sound a human would make, but adequately conveyed her anguish nonetheless.

Seven was torn. She knew that it was her duty to assist the aliens, who were clearly not soldiers. Certainly, it was what Kathryn would have done, without a moment's hesitation. However, there was nothing she could do now for the male, and she would be unarmed against whatever was attacking them. All she could hope to do was provide a distraction while the rest of the family escaped. But what if it was not enough? If the adversary killed her and then killed them as well, it would all have been for nothing. She did not wish to be terminated. She did not want to leave her hiding place.

_I am experiencing fear._ Seven noted. She had felt it before, although it was still a relatively new sensation. This was stronger though; a selfish, instinctual fear for her very survival, the kind which paralysed every muscle and overrode rational thought. She willed herself to respond, but could do nothing but watch as their adversary stepped into the light.

She had seen him before.

It was Mordecai, however it was not the man who now inhabited Voyager. It was not even the being they had brought on board. This was something altogether more powerful and all the more terrifying.

He towered over Seven at eight and a half feet in height. His legs were longer than before, with an elongated ankle joint like a terran feline, and viciously sharp talons in the place of feet. His hands, too, bore the same claws, all four of them; and from the back of each wrist, two foot swords emerged, their edges glowing with some form of concentrated cutting plasma. The biggest change though was his head, which bore no semblance to the human features he had recently worn. It was shaped like a tapered diamond, with the top point comprised of two great, tapering fins. From his upper jaw, four mechanical tentacles emerged, feeling the air with a blind malevolence. The lower jaw was split into two serrated mandibles, but the worst thing of all was his eyes. There were eight of them, like a spider, and every one burned with an eldritch hatred which rolled off him in palpable waves.

Mordecai wore no clothes, and his brilliant shining carapace was dulled by layers of caked-on blood and gore. He reeked of death, and as he stalked forward, the shadow of one of his great warships passed overhead, cloaking him in a darkness which fit him like a second skin.

Seven clamped a hand over her mouth, her normally unflappable demeanour deserting her completely as he cut down the family. He didn't hesitate; he didn't even speak as he ended their lives quickly and with an efficiency which the Borg would undoubtedly admire. His four arms made short work of the grizzly duty, and pleading wails gave way to the soft sound of blood sizzling off his super-heated cutting weapons.

More bombs fell, this time close enough for Seven feel the shockwave. Boulders tumbled, shattering on the street and sending shards of rock scattering in all direction. Seven had a brief impression of movement above her, before something struck her head, hard. Dazed, she staggered forward, falling to all fours. Her vision swam, and her last sight was Mordecai, standing unmoving as the scattered remnants of a collapsing empire came crashing down around him.

* * *

"Regeneration cycle incomplete."

Seven's eyes opened for a second time. Mordecai! He had almost been on top of her when she'd passed out. She had to escape, to survive, and warn the others. Crying out in a blind panic, she tore herself from her alcove, metal creaking in protest as she bent the prongs which held her in place out of shape. It was only when she was finally free that she realised she was no longer on the alien battlefield, surrounded by death and apocalyptic devastation. The comfortingly familiar grey of the cargo bay walls enclosed her on all sides, and spinning around, she saw that her alcove was once again where it belonged, although slightly damaged from her struggle. There were no marks on the floor; nothing to indicate it had been displaced.

She also realised that she was not alone.

"Seven!" A husky, alarmed tone sounded behind her. "My god! What's wrong?"

"Captain?" Seven questioned, her voice sounding timid and small in the large cargo bay. The fear and horror which had been racing through her just seconds ago had not completely abated, yet she found the Captains presence a great comfort.

She had been in a ruined city….there had been someone….someone familiar….so much destruction…

How could she not remember? Her cortical node granted her a perfect memory, so how could she not recall what she had seen? Just moments ago it had seemed so clear, but now, even as she tried to grasp at the fleeting images, they slipped away, until all that was left was a sense of lingering unease.

"Seven." Janeway approached her cautiously, her face lined with worry. "What happened? You're so pale."

"I…had a 'dream'." The word felt odd coming from her mouth. She did not dream, and yet, it was the only term which seemed appropriate.

"More like a nightmare by the looks of it." Janeway gave her a half-hearted smile, but concern still lingered at the edges of her eyes. "I thought that didn't happen?"

"It does not." Seven stated uncertainly, although it was in direct contradiction to the evidence. "Regeneration is not like regular sleep. Such an event should not be possible."

She regretted saying it almost immediately when Janeway's expression became sombre. She did not like it when the Captain was distressed.

"I think you should go to sickbay."

Seven sighed, but she knew that it was the right course of action. She couldn't banish the unwelcome sensation that there was more to what had just occurred than a simple change in her physiology. The dream had somehow been important. If only she was able to remember it. Then again, if the feelings it had inspired were indicative of the subject matter, perhaps it was best that she could not.

"I will comply." She said. If nothing else, it would hopefully bring Kathryn some 'peace of mind'. Linking her hands behind her back, she adopted her standard pose. "Was there something you required?"

"Huh?"

"You were present when I…awoke. What did you wish to see me about?"

"Oh." Kathryn glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck. When she next spoke, it was hesitant, and stilted; not all like her usual, confident demeanour. "I was, er, just passing…when I heard you, so I thought I would, um, see what was happening."

Seven wondered where the Captain would have been going to be 'just passing' the cargo bay, but she accepted the explanation. In truth, she was always pleased to be in Kathryn's company, and did not want to discourage the older woman by questioning her further.

"Are you sure you're okay Seven?" Janeway asked again. "Do you want me to accompany you to sickbay?"

Seven did want that, very much so, but she knew that it was not required. She was perfectly capable of making the trip on her own, and did not want to delay the Captain.

"That will not be necessary." She said reluctantly, before remembering the correct polite response. "Thank you for the offer."

Kathryn smiled slightly at that.

"Anytime. Now, if you excuse me, I've got a meeting with Ensign Mordecai and Ensign Yoshida. It seems the latest addition to the crew had a bit of an altercation."

"An altercation?" Seven enquired, wondering why the mere mention of Mordecai's name was enough to 'set her teeth on edge'.

"Ensign Baker threw a punch at him." Janeway made a face, as if she was tasting something unpleasant. Seven knew how much Kathryn disliked it when the crew was not functioning harmoniously, having been the cause of several such disturbances herself in the past. "I'll fill everyone in at the next staff meeting when I have more details."

"Very well." Seven acknowledged. "I will report to sickbay."

"Yes…yes, sorry for holding you up." Kathryn said as they headed for the door. Just before they went their separate ways, she turned back to Seven, and added. "I don't know what the Doctor will have to say…but if you want to talk about it, or have any questions, I'm available."

Janeway had of course told her this before, under a similar set of circumstances. Ordinarily, Seven would have been irritated at someone else for repeating themselves, but she was warmed by the fact that Kathryn would make a point of reminding her. It seemed that attraction was indeed most illogical.

"I know." She said softly, before striding off down the corridor.

* * *

"Yes…that would work." B'Elanna nodded thoughtfully as she studied the padd Mordecai had handed to her.

Sayuri watched the whole exchange with intense curiosity, all the while trying to make herself look like she was focussed on the display in front of her. As Mordecai's liaison, she was getting to see parts of the ship which she had barely set foot in before. Today, he was assigned to engineering; a prospect Sayuri had been apprehensive about, knowing the Chief Engineer's somewhat impatient temperament and dislike for strangers fiddling in her engine room. In hindsight though, she probably should have guessed that Mordecai would be a natural with the warp core, just like he seemed to be with everything else. B'Elanna was seemingly taking it in her stride, being unusually receptive. Sayuri had heard all sorts of horror stories about the half-Klingon's clashes with Seven over just about everything, and had hoped that B'Elanna wouldn't take Mordecai's suggestions the wrong way. For whatever reason however, the temperamental woman's belligerent attitude seemed to be on holiday today, and she was all smiles as she talked over the finer points of warp-field dynamics with the latest star on engineering.

To tell the truth, Sayuri was beginning to feel tiny prickles of jealousy. She had no real engineering experience herself, and was thus unable to contribute in any meaningful way to the discussion. In fact, she'd been relegated to a console several metres away, doing some mundane task she was almost sure had been made up just to keep her busy. She was used to being side-lined, and wouldn't have minded so much, except for the fact that B'Elanna seemed to be taking the opportunity to cosy up to Mordecai a bit too much.

_Like any department head wouldn't do the same. He's a genius; of course they want to sweet-talk him into staying._

Sayuri sighed. She knew she was acting like a moody schoolgirl, but she couldn't help but feel a bit possessive of Mordecai. In her mind, she had been the first person he had really socialised with, and she had also been the first to truly observe his talents; something which gave them a special bond, or so she thought. It also didn't help that she had a major crush on him which showed no signs of disappearing any time soon.

_Perhaps it's for the best._ She thought sadly. _The sooner he finds other people to be with, the sooner I can forget about such impossible nonsense._

A shrill whistle sounded over the comm, signalling the end of the current rotation. After a brief bout of shaking hands, and exchanging promises to meet up for drinks and pool on the holodeck sometime, Mordecai extracted himself from the engineering crew and headed over to where Sayuri was powering down her console.

"Is all well?" He enquired.

"It is now." _Oh god, why did I say that?_ "I-I mean I'll be glad to get home…it's been a long day."

"A curious expression." Mordecai observed as they began to wind their way through Voyager's corridors. "Do humans perceive the passage of time differently depending on the activity they're performing?"

"Well, not really." Sayuri mumbled. "It sometimes feels that way though."

They walked in silence for a bit before Mordecai spoke again.

"I have noticed…your voice; it is different from the others'."

"Is it?" Sayuri squeaked, suddenly very self-conscious. "W-What do you mean?"

"The intonation, the syllables you stress. It is more than simply a genetic variation in vocal cords."

"D-Do you mean my accent?" Sayuri sincerely hoped he did, otherwise she could add the way she spoke to the list of things embarrassing things about herself.

"Ah, yes, that is the word." Mordecai considered her for a second. "From where do you hail?"

"Japan." The young woman replied, about to add more before she realised that Mordecai would have already accessed the relevant database entries.

"Earth. North Atlantic. Island off the east coast of Asia. One moment." Mordecai's head twitched slightly as he thought. "I see."

"See what?"

_"Earth's culture is comprised of many sub-units, each originally possessing distinct linguistic differences."_

Sayuri stopped in her tracks, staring at Mordecai.

_"Did…did you just…?"_ She whispered, stumbling slightly over words she had almost forgotten how to say.

_"You do speak Japanese, don't you?"_ Mordecai replied, puzzled.

_"I-I do. Just not for a…well, a very long time. I only ever spoke it with my parents."_

"Oh." Mordecai said, returning to English. "In that case I will desist."

_"No!"_ Sayuri cried quickly. _"No. It's okay. I-I like it."_

Hearing it again, after all these years…it made Sayuri feel close to home in a way she hadn't ever experienced since arriving in the delta quadrant. It was ironic, perhaps, that this reminder came from a being even more lost than she was.

Mordecai smiled, and Sayuri recalled the first time she had seen him do it; the expression had been strange, and slightly alien. Now though, it seemed as natural as if it was anyone else. She wondered if it was because now she was attracted to him, or if he was simply learning to emulate humans better the longer he was on board.

All too soon, they were stood outside the door to her quarters, and Sayuri was faced with a quandary. On the one hand, she wanted to run and hide under the blankets in her bedroom and never come out. The closer she got to Mordecai, the more and more paralysed with fear she became that she would do something to scare him off. On the other hand, she desperately wanted him to stay. There was so much he could teach her; so many things he had seen and done and she had only begun to scratch the surface with her hesitant enquiries. She remembered the previous night, when he had stopped by to power her replicator. He hadn't stayed long, but even in that short space of time, she had learnt so much. She would have stayed up all night just listening to him talk, if he would allow it.

Was there really any chance for him and her? For the little pipe dream she'd constructed in her mind? She supposed she'd never know unless she did something about it. Being proactive and forward were definitely not Sayuri's strong suits, but trying had to be better than clinging to hope until it was inevitably snatched away from her by circumstances beyond her control.

"W-Would…um." Sayuri felt rather faint, and found it impossible to do anything other than stare at her fidgeting hands, which were noticeably trembling. It was pointless to hope that Mordecai wouldn't see, he picked up on everything; she just hoped he didn't know what it meant. "Do you want…I mean, you d-don't have to, but, um…"

Mordecai laid a hand on her shoulder. For someone strong enough to effortlessly throw a fully grown man across a room, he was surprisingly gentle.

_"Yes, I would. Come on, I'll make you that dish you like."_

_"I…"_ Sayuri could barely hear herself over her own racing heart as she followed Mordecai inside. _"...thank you."_

_Thank you for noticing me._

"Ensign Mordecai, come in." The Captain's voice abruptly cut through her musings.

"This is Mordecai." The metal man acknowledged, tapping his communicator. "Go ahead."

"I want to see you in my ready room. Is Ensign Yoshida with you at the moment?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, bring her too. Janeway out."

Sayuri felt her blood run cold as her feelings about the evening shifted from hopeful optimism to a foreboding dread. Being summoned by the Captain could mean any number of things, but the only reason she could think of was to discuss the incident in the mess hall yesterday. She had hoped that giving their report to Tuvok would be the end of the matter, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"It looks like your meal will have to wait." Mordecai said, frowning.

As they retraced their steps, heading for the turbolift, Sayuri felt like a prisoner being led to execution. She didn't understand how Mordecai could be so calm, especially as any anger the Captain had would undoubtedly be directed mainly at him for striking Ensign Baker. Surely Tuvok had told Janeway it had been in self defense, right? Right?

They were nearly at the lifts when Voyager suddenly lurched violently. Sayuri stumbled, grunting as she impacted heavily with the wall. She would have fallen completely if Mordecai hadn't hastily grabbed her arm with his superhuman reflexes. He didn't stagger at all, standing in place as if there had been no movement whatsoever.

"What the..?" Sayuri began as Voyager shuddered again. She could sense the ship accelerating beneath her feet, changing course rapidly. Quickly, before another tremor could plant her on her backside, she ran to the end of the corridor, gripping the bulkhead firmly for support. Out of the window, she could see the stars racing past as Voyager turned on the spot. Then, they were blotted out, as a colossal shape obscured them from view. There was a ship just off Voyager's starboard bow, and Sayuri recognised the gunmetal grey pipework and sickly green glow almost immediately. It was a design all the members of the crew were familiar with, although they really wished they weren't.

Klaxons sounded, and the corridor lights dimmed, replaced with the flashing warning signs of a general red alert and call to battle stations.

"What is it?" Mordecai asked, eyeing the craft outside with an incongruously passive interest. "An unusual shape…cubic in design."

Sayuri opened her mouth to reply, but was drowned out by a voice which sounded from every speaker simultaneously. It was cold and mechanical, like hearing something dead which had been brought partially back to life.

**"****We are the Borg. Existence as you know it is over. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile."**

* * *

"We're caught in the slipspace wake!" Tom shouted over the sound of alarm bells and sparking consoles as he desperately tried to wrestle Voyager back onto a steady course. "Hold on to something, this is going to be bumpy!"

Janeway half sat, half fell back into her chair. On the viewscreen, the stars blurred past in a dizzying acrobatic display as Voyager tumbled end over end. Occasionally, a brief glimpse of a dark green shape reminded her that it was indeed the Borg who they were about to face. Cursing silently, she wondered how on Earth the Cube had managed to get the drop on them.

It had come out of nowhere. She'd just asked Ensigns Mordecai and Yoshida to report to the bridge when the Borg vessel had burst out of slipspace directly in front of them and begun closing at an alarming speed. Were it not for Tom's remarkable piloting ability, they would have crashed headlong into it. As it was, they'd missed the Cube by less than a kilometre, and the roiling energies of the advanced propulsion system the Borg used were now tossing Voyager about like an ocean-faring skip in a hurricane.

Janeway clasped the arms of her chair tightly, knuckles white. She would never show it, but a small part of her always wanted to just cower in fear whenever they confronted the cybernetic monstrosities. Of all the hostile races they'd encountered in their travels, there were none more dangerous, more powerful, or more relentless than the Borg. Every time their paths crossed, it was a brush with death, and each time they had only barely escaped with their lives, Looking around, she could see that the rest of her staff were having similar thoughts, although all of them retained their composure. Even Harry Kim, the most comparatively green amongst them, stayed focussed on his console, his fear only showing as a noticeable tremor in his hands.

As Tom managed to regain some semblance of control, Janeway heard the sound of the turbolift door opening. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Seven of Nine, primly collecting herself off the floor of the lift where she had apparently been thrown when the ship was flipped. The Captain's heart skipped a beat when she saw the bright crimson of blood on the blonde woman's forehead, but it quickly became apparent that it was just a minor scratch; nothing serious.

_Thank god._

"Report." Janeway barked, returning her attention to the Cube on the viewscreen, which was coming around for another pass at them.

"Minor injuries on all decks. No fatalities." Tuvok replied. It was something, but Janeway knew this was only the beginning.

"All systems online." Harry chimed in, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "Although that close call knocked off about 20% of our shields."

"Evasive manoeuvres." The Captain ordered. "Don't let them get a lock on us with their holding beam. Tom, if you see an opportunity to break away cleanly, take it."

"No need to tell me twice!" Tom yelled, already keying in the commands. Voyager listed to one side just as a focussed shaft of green light shot from the Cube, sweeping the space they had occupied a second earlier.

"Attack pattern gamma." Janeway said, her calm, steely voice belying the panic she hid just beneath the surface. "Tuvok, target their tractor beam emitters and weapons systems."

As a starship Captain with almost unparalleled experience dealing with the Borg, Janeway knew that Voyager was no match for a Cube. A single Borg ship could take on an armada and still emerge victorious, and their decentralised systems allowed them to sustain catastrophic damage and continue functioning. The only hope for her ship and her crew was to escape, and that meant crippling their enemy's means of pursuit.

It was a desperate gamble at best. Every other time they had faced the Borg, they'd had some kind of edge; circumstances were in their favour, or she possessed a bargaining chip she could use to her advantage. This time though, it was a straight up confrontation; the kind which had decimated an entire Federation fleet at Wolf 359. Janeway tried not to dwell on that sobering thought. There were always ways to tip the scales; she just had to find them.

One advantage of facing the Borg over other species, like the Hirogen, was that the Collective would not destroy them so long as they believed there was a chance of assimilating them instead. It was hardly a silver lining, but it meant that they had a bit more time than they might have had otherwise. Of course, they stood even less of a chance in shipboard combat. Borg drones were practically immune to all but their most powerful weapons, and a Cube carried enough of them to simply flood her tiny vessel with overwhelming numbers.

Janeway rose from her chair, aware it was risky, but finding it difficult to focus without doing something active with her body. Pacing, her eyes came to rest on Seven, who now occupied the aft tactical station. The Borg woman was even paler than she had been in the cargo bay earlier, and the way she remained utterly fixated on her display was an indication of the terror she must have been feeling inside. Janeway's heart went out to the young drone, and she wished she could do something to reassure her, even if it was just a comforting pat on the shoulder; but she knew that it was neither the time nor the place. The best she could do for Seven now was be the Captain, and guide them all safely through this encounter.

_I won't let them take her. Not again._

Explosions resonated off the port hull; the Borg had opened fire. It was a standard tactic; limit the opposing vessel's manoeuvrability long enough to snag them with a holding beam, or alternatively, disable their engines.

**"****We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."**

"Someone turn that damn thing off!" Janeway shouted. "Tuvok, are we in range?"

"Firing now Captain."

Blazing streaks of orange light lanced from the small Intrepid-class ship, splashing across the Cube's shields and having about as much effect as rain on concrete. They were followed, however, by a salvo of torpedoes, which detonated with deadly force against the enemy vessel's hull. Small plumes of debris drifted lazily away into space, but the Cube was otherwise unharmed, and continued its relentless advance. Another beam erupted from its surface, this one designed to cut rather than capture. It clipped Voyager's defences, rocking the ship ominously.

"Shields down to 48% Captain." An alarmed Harry called out.

"Take us in to 300 metres Tom." Janeway ordered. "Their weapons will have a harder time tracking us at close range."

"Aye ma-ahhhhh!" The pilot cried out in surprise and pain as another hit caused something in his console to blow, sending sparks and shrapnel in all directions. He was blasted backwards out of his chair by the force of the localised explosion, crumpling to the deck. Janeway could only spare a moment to assess his condition as she rushed to take his place. By the looks of it, he had been thrown clear of the worst of it, and was simply unconscious and bruised.

"Re-route helm control!" She bellowed. To her left, Chakotay was already ordering two junior officers to get Tom to sickbay

The delay cost them, however. Without Tom manually inputting navigational commands to throw the Borg off, Voyager maintained its heading for a brief moment; an easy trajectory to predict for a mechanically minded species. Like the tendrils of some mythical serpent, holding beams lashed the tiny ship, quickly draining its remaining shield before affixing to the hull.

"The Cube has locked on a tractor beam." Seven stated. Her voice was dull and inflectionless, but Janeway could hear every roiling emotion it concealed. After all, Seven had more reason than any of them to fear the Borg.

_No. They're not having her. Not this time._

Voyager groaned as it was brought to a halt. Janeway knew what was coming next, and felt strangely numb at the prospect. To think that just minutes ago, she had been joking with Chakotay about the upcoming personnel reports, and now they had mere seconds to prepare for a full-scale invasion. There wasn't even enough time to dwell on how hopelessly outmatched they were, something which she was glad of, truthfully. Stopping to think about how desperate the situation had suddenly become would not be productive at all.

"Have the replicators dispense emergency phasers." She said, relying on her training to speak the words for her, before opening a ship-wide comm channel. "All hands, this the Captain. Prepare for boarding on all decks. Retrieve weapons from the nearest locker if you can, or the nearest replicator if you can't. Your primary objective is to stop the Borg from gaining a foothold on Voyager. Protect engineering and sickbay at all costs. Good luck everyone, and give them hell. Janeway out."

"Captain!" Seven cried, and Janeway turned to see the swirling green energies of a Borg transporter signal right behind her. She darted to one side as the drone materialised, and Chakotay took the opportunity to blast it squarely in the back with a phaser he'd retrieved from the secret compartment in the command chair. The Borg collapsed, implants twitching, and dematerialised as quickly as it had appeared.

"They will target the most vital systems and personnel first." Seven stated, face ashen. "Their initial aim is to disrupt the ship's functionality before sending across the main force of drones to begin assimilation."

"Then we'd better be ready." Janeway growled. "Grab a weapon."

_The Borg will regret the day they decided that Voyager was easy pickings._


	7. Chapter 7: Boarding Action

**Author's Notes:**

Hey guys, another chapter here. I hope you like it :) Big thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favourited, and followed. Please, feel free to leave feedback. I love hearing what people think.

Enjoy :)

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 7 – Boarding Action**

Pandemonium reigned as Voyager's crew fought the Borg tooth and nail for every inch of deck. Sayuri had heard the old saying 'no plan survives contact with the enemy', but she had never realised quite how

true it was, until now. The Starfleet personnel were trying to mount a coordinated defense, but tactical drones were everywhere, and the battle had quickly degenerated into isolated groups simply doing their best to survive. Hand phasers whined, set to kill, and every now and then, the concentrated blast of a compression rifle could be heard from the few crewmembers that'd been lucky enough to get to a weapons locker before the Borg arrived.

Sayuri couldn't remember being more terrified. They had fought the Borg before, but that had been as a ship; one single unit, which lived or died together. She had never had to go face to face with the enemy, had never had to rely on her own skills as a warrior; skills which, beyond the basic combat training all officers were given, she did not possess. She was a scientist, not a soldier.

Ironically, it was her fear which kept her going. Every other instinct told her to curl up in a corner and simply pray that this nightmare would end, but her fear told her that such an act would be suicide.

That, and the fact that Mordecai was still with her. After seeing his strength in the mess hall, she could think of no one else she'd rather have at her side in a fight for survival.

"Communications are out." The android muttered, trying his badge. "The Borg might be using some kind of jamming signal. We have to find the Captain."

A cry of pain sounded just around the corner, and suddenly a security officer was hurled against a wall not two feet from where Sayuri stood, petrified. His neck twisted at an impossible angle with a wet crunch, and she had to stifle a scream as he fell to the floor, lifeless. Mordecai was not so repulsed; he had snatched the phaser compression rifle from the man's hands before he had hit the ground. Holding it up, he quickly scanned the weapon, then tossed it to Sayuri.

"Take this." He called, insistent, but so calm that Sayuri could swear he was oblivious to the chaos around them. "Keep it close and stay behind me."

"I-I-I can't shoot!" Sayuri cried. "You should have it!"

"I have my own." Mordecai replied. As he did, the metal plates on the back of one of wrists shifted, rearranging and elongating until a shiny, chrome facsimile of the rifle sprouted from the end of his arm. "Stay with me. I will not let them hurt you."

A promise like that would be meaningless from anyone else, but from Mordecai, Sayuri was able to believe it. Nodding mutely, she clutched the gun to her chest. She had always been a hopeless marksman, and had only barely scraped through that part of her yearly review. 'Fortunately' the Borg tended to get pretty close, making it almost impossible to miss.

"We must ensure the safety of the command staff." Mordecai stated. "Our destination is the bridge. Follow me."

Sayuri hardly needed to be told. She wouldn't be parted from Mordecai if her life depended on it, which, she supposed, it did. Sticking as close as she could without tripping him up, the two of them cautiously advanced round the corner.

The hallway was a battlefield. Blast marks adorned the walls, and phaser shots ricocheted in every direction. Crew members shrieked and shouted, some calling out commands, others wailing in fear as drones grabbed them and began the injection of nanoprobes before transporting back to the Cube. Above the din, the constant mantra of the Borg continued, echoing from the mouth of every drone in perfect unison.

**"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."**

"I'm going to move fast." Mordecai said gravely, lowering himself into a combat-ready stance. "As long as you're with me, you'll be safe, I promise, but you have to keep up, and don't stop for anything."

Sayuri just nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

And for the first time, she saw Mordecai truly let loose.

His in-built phaser blazed, firing round after round with perfect accuracy. He switched targets faster than the human eye could follow, blasting drones away with lethal precision. In less than a second, four Borg were down, transporting away in a pool of their black, oily 'blood'. The fifth shot followed just as fast, but this time it fizzed against an invisible energy field.

"Oh shit!" Someone yelled as the rest of the phaser shots began to deflect harmlessly off as well.

"They've adapted." Mordecai stated, accelerating into a loping jog. "Switching to close-range engagement."

Sayuri looked at the un-fired gun in her hand, then threw it to the floor. It was all but worthless now, and she'd move faster without it. Dimly aware that she was screaming, she sprinted after Mordecai, directly into the midst of the fray. The android's weapon shifted again, switching into a 2-foot long sword. An identical blade sprang from his other wrist, and both hummed as a concentrated beam of cutting plasma formed along their edges.

Sayuri didn't even see what happened to the first drone he met. One minute, it was advancing, assimilation tubules outstretched. The next, it disappeared in a whirlwind of blood; limbs and implants flying in all directions. There wasn't even enough left for the Cube to bother transporting it back for recycling. Mordecai didn't break stride, dive-rolling under another clumsy blow aimed in his direction, and effortlessly severing the offending arm. The Borg barely had time to inspect its missing limb before its head had joined it on the deck.

Someone, Sayuri wasn't sure who, shouted triumphantly, and it acted as a rallying cry for the beleaguered Federation officers. The ones whose opponents Mordecai had just slain joined him on his charge, wielding their rifles like clubs. Borg shields were designed to adapt to energy weapons, not blunt trauma, and several drones fell beneath the frenzied stampede, beaten into the deck with the righteous fervour of a crew defending the only thing they had; their ship. In the centre of it all, Mordecai conducted the orchestra of carnage with inhuman skill. His blades danced like great, flaming swords, and eviscerated any enemy who came within five feet of him. Like a surgeon's scalpel removing a tumour, he cut Borg off of his fallen shipmates, tearing out assimilation tubes and snatching them back from the brink of a cybernetic unlife. Sayuri's stride faltered as she watched, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. Mordecai wasn't just saving her. He was saving everyone.

A cold hand grabbed her shoulder, clamping on like a vice, and Sayuri's nostrils were filled with the acrid, metallic tang of the Borg as a drone yanked her backwards with brutal strength. Eyes wide with panic, Sayuri struggled to turn and face her aggressor. As she did, she saw where it had come from; a room to her left whose door had previously been shut. Inside was the body of a junior science officer; Sayuri thought she recognised her…Ensign Foren, or something. A phaser hung limply in her lifeless grip, and the only mark on her corpse was a deep, fresh burn on her left temple. She had taken her own life, rather than accept assimilation.

Sayuri tried to cry for help, but her voice was lost amidst the melee. The drone tightened its grip, holding her painfully across the chest with one immovable arm. It extended its other hand, assimilation tubules wriggling from its grey flesh like ugly, blind leeches. Their spiked tips latched onto the panicked woman's neck, and Sayuri whimpered as she felt a twin pair of needles pierce her skin. She kicked and twisted feebly, but the Borg didn't even notice as her weak attacks struck its carapaced body.

"Please…" Sayuri whispered, although she was aware that words would have no effect on the mindless automaton which held her. It wasn't it she was talking to.

_You promised me._

Then, just as an icy, clammy blackness had begun to invade her mind, an intense heat burned just past her left ear, close enough to singe the tips of her hair. The drone reeled, and Sayuri slumped forward, twisting as she fell. The assimilation tubules were still embedded in the soft flesh of her neck, but the arm they sprung from was no longer attached to its owner.

Bellowing an inhuman roar like a thousand grinding gears, Mordecai severed the tubules at their base, hefting the arm like a mace, and smashed it across the stumbling Borg's head. Sticky transmission fluid sprayed in all directions, coating the walls and deck, not to mention himself and Sayuri. Not relenting for a second, he drove one blade deep into the cyborg's chest, before ripping its other arm off with his bare hands, using no more effort than a human might use to snap a twig. He then proceeded to lift the drone aloft, still impaled, and slice it apart, stopping only when it had been reduced to a dozen unrecognisable chunks. When he finally let it fall to the floor, his hands were dripping with sticky a black ichor.

Sayuri was agog, her breath ragged and her heartbeat wild from her brush with death. As she stared at Mordecai with uncomprehending eyes, she realised she had no words to describe what she had just seen, or what she was now feeling. Gratitude, definitely, but it was so much more than just that. It was…it was like adoration and horror all rolled into one. He had saved her life…had saved all their lives, yet the way he fought…

She only realised when he turned to her that his eyes had changed too. They shone a bright, scarlet crimson, and seemed to recede into his head forever, as if looking into them was a doorway to realms beyond the limit of human understanding. Yet even as she watched, they flickered back to blue; somehow warmer than before despite their cool appearance. As they did, the whole universe seemed to shift with them, and the tendrils of fear raking her stomach receded.

He offered her his hand, before frowning and pausing to wipe the gore off on his trousers.

"Are you injured?" He asked softly.

Shaking, Sayuri hesitantly put her fingers in his, wincing when she remembered how easily he had torn the Borg limb from limb. None of that strength was present now though, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"Allow me." He said, and Sayuri wasn't sure what he meant until she felt him grip the tips of the assimilation tubules which were still lodged in her neck. She steeled herself for a sharp pain, but it didn't come, as he carefully removed the horrifying Borg technology with a gentleness that seemed utterly at odds with what she'd witnessed just moments ago. Suddenly shy, she glanced away from his intense gaze, mumbling an embarrassed 'thank you'.

"This deck has been secured temporarily." Mordecai's voice rose as he turned his attention to the rest of the assembled crew. "But the remainder of this ship is still in danger and the Borg will return soon, and in greater numbers. They have adapted to your phasers, so a different strategy is required. I believe I have a solution. The drones appear to be unable to develop countermeasures for physical weapons; however they contain too many redundant systems for ballistic weapons to be an effective substitute for phasers. Severing the link between the cortical node and the rest of the body seems to be the most viable tactic. I would recommend replicating some form of sharp cutting instrument; a katana, or similar bladed weapon. Aim for the weak points in their carapace; at the joints between their limbs, and at the neck."

It was a strange sight watching the assembled crew, many of them a higher rank than Mordecai, hang on his every word like fresh cadets straight out of the academy. When he was done, they murmured their agreement, immediately enacting his advice. Quarters were opened and the replicators fired up; the red alert overriding the restrictions placed on their use and enabling them to dispense enough swords for every crewmember present. If Sayuri had thought seeing Mordecai lecture lieutenants on battle tactics was odd, then the image of Starfleet officers hefting weapons which hadn't been used since the middle-ages was completely surreal. Still, there was an elegant logic to the idea. The Borg were on the very frontier of technological advancement, with the combined knowledge of many of the most advanced species in each scientific field. It is natural that they would never expect to be faced with what were essentially sticks of sharpened metal. Any species which still primarily used such tools would be deemed irrelevant by the Collective.

Sayuri accepted the weapon which was offered to her. No doubt she'd be even worse with this than with a phaser, but it felt better than having nothing to defend herself with. The sword was surprisingly light, made from a composite alloy which lent it great strength and flexibility. She wondered where the pattern for it had come from; probably some form of sparring program for the holodeck.

"The turbolifts are out; the Borg must have cut the power." A white faced security officer said, jogging back to the group. He didn't need to finish the rest of the sentence; everyone knew that if the Borg had that much access to the ship's system, it meant the fight was going poorly down in engineering.

"Jeffries tubes are locked down as well." A junior officer from exobiology exclaimed, kicking the bulkhead with frustration. "We're trapped on this level!"

"Then I will improvise." Mordecai replied. "Tend to the wounded. I will reinforce the Captain."

"How?" Someone asked, bewilderment in their tone.

Mordecai looked at the ceiling above his head, pausing for a moment, as if working through something in his mind. Then, quite suddenly, he buried one of his blades deep into it. The plasma cutter slid through the metal like a hot knife through butter, slicing it apart with a screech of protest. Drops of red hot, molten duranium dripped down, a few of them singing Mordecai's uniform.

"W-What are you doing?" Sayuri cried.

_Has he lost his mind?_

Drawing his sword around in a large circle, Mordecai cut a neat, round path right through to the deck above. The cross-section of flooring, now completely freed, fell down to their level with a resounding clang, wires sparking and pipes weeping coolant. A drone tumbled through as well, and was quickly dispatched by Mordecai, who decapitated it before it had a chance to react. Overhead, the sounds of fighting were audible once more.

"We are four decks below the bridge. I will proceed upwards, avoiding any critical systems."

Sayuri blanched at the prospect, and Mordecai seemed to notice her sudden pallor, pausing as he prepared to ascend.

"This deck is now the safest place on this ship. I intend to deal with the Borg threat before they have the chance to dispatch more drones." He stopped, looking at her with a curious expression. Sayuri was sure that it meant something, but she wasn't good enough at reading people to determine what it was. "Help your shipmates. I will return."

"What are you going to do?" She asked. Mordecai was good, there was no doubt about that, but how could he possibly promise that he would stop the Borg ship? Even with all of Voyager at his disposal, their weapons weren't enough.

"I will destroy them" He said simply, and if he was the slightest bit unsure, it did not show. Sayuri had to believe he was telling the truth. He was a machine, he was logical; surely he wouldn't make such a claim if it was beyond his power to do so?

"I…" She began. There was more she wanted to say…much more. But this was not the time. "Good luck."

_You'd better come back._

"To you as well." Mordecai replied, before disappearing up the machine-made rabbit hole.

* * *

"Weapons are offline. The Borg have locked down access to the tactical station." Tuvok called above the din. "They must have root control at the computer core. I cannot override them from here."

Janeway was about to reply, when another mechanical whine heralded the arrival of more tactical drones. Bracing the compression rifle against her shoulder, she zeroed in on the noise. The Borg continued to attack the bridge in waves, and so far, the command staff had only just managed to keep them at bay. Now, they were starting to get smart. With access to many of Voyager's systems, they had sealed off off all entrances to the bridge with force fields, and had begun using her ready room and the conference suite as staging points in which to transport in drones. Sure enough, as if on cue, the door to her right opened, and a contingent of Borg stepped through, traversing the flickering blue barrier as if it was nothing but air.

**"Surrender, and prepare to be assimilated. You must comply."**

"I don't think so." Janeway fired, feeling the slight kick of the rifle into the crook of her arm. The leader of the pack fell, dropping stiffly to the deck and dematerialising. Around her, the rest of the bridge survivors followed suit, and soon the confined space was filled with the blasts and whines of phasers. More drones went down, however when only two remained, the sound of mechanical groans was replaced with the fizzing and sparking of shots striking shielding.

"They have adapted." Seven stated, the slightest trace of panic colouring her voice.

The surviving Borg advanced, one of them grabbing the nearest Starfleet officer; Ensign Shalma. He screamed, firing his hand phaser again and again, but it reflected harmlessly off the drones defences, and he was quickly transported away; assimilation tubules already beginning their grisly work.

Janeway watched him go numbly. She felt strangely detached, and assumed it was her Captain's training kicking in. There simply wasn't time to mourn, or even fully comprehend the fate of Ensign Shalma, and no doubt many others on the lower decks. If she wanted any of them to survive, she had to remain level headed, and that meant distancing herself from any emotional repercussions.

Glancing at Seven, who was staring wide eyed at where their crewmate had stood just a moment before, she realised that such an act was easier said than done.

The last drone continued forward, laser-sight bobbing and weaving across the room as it prioritised its next target. In a split second, it fixed its cold, dead gaze on Seven.

_Oh no._

For one horrifying instant, Janeway thought that the Borg woman would simply stay rooted to the spot; frozen in fear while her old nightmare came to reclaim her. Seven didn't move as the drone stalked towards her, arm outstretched. Then, just when it looked like Janeway's own nightmare was about to come true, Seven nimbly sidestepped the Borg's grasp. In one fluid motion, she took its implanted head in her hands, and using every last bit of her enhanced strength, twisted its neck a full 180 degrees. The drone spasmed briefly, then melted away, as the Cube transported back another one of its fallen warriors.

Janeway released the breath she had been holding.

"It appears they have yet to fix that inefficiency." Seven noted, turning to face the Captain. Her body was trembling, but there was a fire in her eyes which made Janeway realise that she didn't need to worry about Seven's ability to fight. The Borg woman was many things, but helpless was definitely not one of them

"Did we lose anyone else?" She called out huskily, immediately sobering. Ensign Shalma had been a good officer, and he would be sorely missed; assuming any of them came through this desperate situation.

"I don't think so." Chakotay replied, eyes scanning the small gaggle of officers, who were doing their best to prepare for the next assault. "Damn, what a mess."

"They will return soon." Tuvok said, pragmatic as ever. "And now that they have adapted, out task becomes considerably more difficult."

"Indeed." The Captain murmured. "Harry, any progress on re-establishing communications?"

The raven-haired operations officer glanced up from the floor-panel he was working on, and shook his head.

"Not so far. I think I can find a path around the Borg block, but it's going to be a little while yet."

Janeway nodded grimly. She didn't need to tell him that time was of the essence; they all knew what was at stake. So long as areas of the ship were cut off and isolated, the Borg could simply overwhelm them one group at a time. She just hoped they'd be able to hold out long enough for Harry to finish his repairs. With communications back, they'd at least have some chance of mounting a coordinated defence.

"Remodulate phasers everyone. We might be able to get a few more lethal shots out of them."

"Captain!" A junior science officer gestured her over to one of the few remaining terminals which they could still operate. "Look at this. Replicators, are one of the few systems the Borg haven't yet compromised and…well…see for yourself…ma'am."

Janeway scanned the display, and immediately spotted what had caught the young Ensign's attention. Several decks down, someone had used the red-alert override to requisition a bulk batch of…

"…katanas?" Janeway spoke the word aloud, but it still didn't make much sense.

Tuvok's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Interesting. The drones have adapted to our energy weapons, however it is true that they would be unable to adapt to a physical cutting implement. A sharp enough blade would indeed be a suitable means of dispatching them, when other alternatives have been exhausted."

"That's good in theory." Chakotay agreed. "But we don't have access to a replicator."

"Incorrect." Seven cut in. "We have access to the largest replicator on board Voyager; the transporter."

"Yes, but the Borg have our systems in lockdown."

"The Borg override prevents us from uploading any new matter into the transporter buffer; however it should not prevent us from retrieving an existing pattern." Seven's brow furrowed, in the way it always did when she was thinking intently. "Captain, what was the last object Voyager transported?"

Janeway thought back. It had been a while since they had been used, but…

"A shipment of duranium bolts, from out trade with Priluvians." She replied, comprehension beginning to dawn.

"Since we still retain control of the replicators, we can upload the pattern to the transporter array, and then use the existing image of the duranium shipment as raw materials to fabricate the blades. Then, they can be transported onto the bridge."

"Good thinking." Janeway said, favouring Seven with a brief smile. In fact, she was a lot more proud than she let on, but there were many reasons not to show that now. "Alright, let's make it happen. The sooner the better."

Half of the crew set about uploading the schematic for the weapons, while the rest kept a nervous look-out. It was impossible to know when the next Borg attack would occur, but it was bound to be very soon, and if they didn't have anything new to defend themselves with, they were all as good as dead.

Janeway tried to think back to her days at the academy. Fencing had been a compulsory part of the physical exercise program, but more as a way to improve hand-eye coordination and reflexes than actually learning to swordfight in earnest. She had the feeling that the reality would be very different; not that she could remember anything but the most basic techniques. It seemed laughable that they were even attempting this at all.

_Still, if a stupid idea works, then it's not stupid._

"Done!" Chakotay cried triumphantly. As he did, the hum of the transporter sounded, and a small, tightly packed crate of katanas materialised just in front of the command chair.

"Everyone grab a sword!" Janeway ordered. _Now there's something I never thought I'd hear myself say. _"Keep your phasers ready though. Only switch to the blades once the Borg have adapted to the new modulation."

The Captain took one of the wickedly sharp weapons in her hands, testing its surprisingly light weight. As she gripped it, a new sense of steely resolve infused her wiry frame.

_The Borg will pay for what they have done here today._

* * *

Seven examined the implement which the Captain had called a 'katana', her ocular implant raised in curiosity. It was approximately 1 metre long, with a simple, cloth-bound handle at one end where one was supposed to hold the weapon. At the top of this grip was a small disk of metal, and after that, the thin, slightly curved blade. It gleamed in the artificial light of the bridge, sparkles playing off its cutting edge.

Such a…basic design was somewhat alien to Seven. She had seen and used knives before, but wielding this archaic piece of technology as a primary weapon seemed insufficient, considering the magnitude of the threat they were facing. Nevertheless, she could see a sort of logic behind it. Certainly, the Borg were not used to engaging species equipped with such devices. Their carapaces were designed to deflect bullets, and dissipate energy weapon shots. She wondered who it was on the lower decks who had originally devised the idea.

Taking the device in her organic hand, she used her mesh one to heft a compression rifle. An ordinary human would not be able to fire such a large gun effectively without using both arms to stabilize it, but Seven's superior strength allowed her to do so quite effortlessly. She would not need it for long anyway. By her estimations, they would be able to kill no more than two drones before the rest adapted to the new phaser frequency.

"How are those communications coming Harry?" Janeway called. Seven could detect a definite edge to the Captain's voice that was not usually present; unsurprising, considering their situation. She knew how much Kathryn cared for her crew and her ship, and seeing both be damaged, perhaps irreparably, must be torturous for her. Seven wished there was something she could do to assist the Captain, beyond what was already being done.

"I'm getting there. Just five more minutes or s-"

"Captain, I am detecting beam-in signatures." Tuvok announced, cutting across the end of Harry's sentence. "Too many to track accurately from this console."

"Alright, brace yourselves everyone, this is it!" Janeway shouted. "Remember, as soon as they adapt, switch to your swords. Time your blows and don't take risks. Aim for any exposed flesh you can see."

A tingle of crackling energy filled the air, and immediately, the bridge was awash in tactical drones. They beamed into every available space, and no doubt, more were already arriving in the adjacent rooms.

**"Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."**

Seven fired immediately. At this range, it was impossible to miss, and her shot struck one of the lead drones in the chest. It staggered to the floor, collapsing and disappearing, but already two more had advanced to fill the gap. She shot again, and another drone fell.

If she felt any remorse about terminating members of what had once been her Collective, all she had to do was picture Kathryn, her beauty and vitality stifled behind a casing of black metal, and suddenly, she didn't so much want to kill the drones as she did rip them apart with her bare hands.

Her third shot was absorbed harmlessly by an energy shield. In response, Seven slung her rifle as hard as she could at a Borg which was almost on top of Chakotay. The force of the impact was enough to stagger it, but she didn't have time to see if the Commander was able to take advantage of that fact. Switching her attention back to the drone in front of her, she transferred her katana to her stronger, Borg hand, and seized the chance to strike first, before her opponent was ready.

One of her crewmates roared a battle cry; unprofessional, but strangely motivating. Seven twirled the blade, manoeuvring to put the entirety of her considerable body-weight behind the blow. Her katana bit deep into the exposed flesh at the drone's neck, and judging from the upwelling of oily, tar-like substance from its mouth, she had hit something vital for its continued functionality. With a rasping wet gurgle, the Borg fell back.

From there, Seven found herself simply struggling to survive. She dodged and whirled, drawing on the moves she more commonly used when playing Velocity against the Captain. Again and again, her blade slashed into vulnerable grey flesh, but no matter how many drones she felled, she always seemed to be surrounded. The Cube was sending everything it had at them. Over the raucous cries of battle, her acute hearing could pick out the hum of Borg transporters, and of course, their unrelenting chant.

**"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated."**

The words echoed off every wall, emanating from the mouth of every drone even as they were cut down. It seemed to fill Seven's head, until it sounded like it was coming from within her own skull. Frantically, she fought harder, drawing on every bit of skill and strength she possessed.

_I will not return to them. I will not allow them to take Kathryn or the others._

To her surprise, she found that she too was yelling; a primal cry that was neither human nor Borg, but something more animal. Screaming a challenge at her adversaries, she swept her katana in a great, scything arc, cleaving the limbs off multiple drones. One grabbed her from behind, and snarling, she drove the blade between her torso and her arm, skewering her assailant before throwing it off her back. Another drone stepped up, and this time she didn't even bother with the sword; simply driving her fingertips into its throat and ripping out a vital-looking implant. As it fell away, eyes rolling back in its head, she was met with a sight which made her boiling blood run cold.

Four drones had cornered Kathryn against the tactical console. She lashed out, and her sword hacked into one of their arms, but not deeply enough to sever it completely. Instead, it got stuck, probably in the bone, and the Borg yanked it from her grasp, oblivious to the pain such an act would cause an organic species. The drones advanced, assimilators extended. Kathryn grabbed one of the outstretched arms, holding it away from her neck, but the Borg's strength forced her to the floor.

Time seemed to slow as Seven stared, transfixed with horror. Through the legs of her aggressors, Kathryn's frantic eyes momentarily darted in her direction, and for what could only have been the briefest of seconds, their gazes met.

It was the first time Seven had seen her Captain show fear. Of course, they had faced many difficult challenges together before now, and there had been times when it seemed that they were not going to survive. In such instances, Seven had known that Kathryn was afraid; she had observed it in the stiffness of her jaw, had heard it in the almost inaudible waver in her voice, and had smelt it in the pheromones which betrayed her body's true feelings. On all those occasions however, the Captain had maintained her composure. She had displayed an outwardly calm façade which Seven suspected only she was able to see through, having memorised the other woman's expressions in such minute detail.

Looking at Kathryn's face now though, Seven could see the desperate fear etched into every muscle. It was the face of someone who was terrified of dying, of having everything that they were stripped away until only a hollow shell remained. She knew that the Captain would only allow her command mask to slip so drastically if she was convinced that it no longer mattered.

If she truly believed that she was about to be terminated.

Staring into those incredible blue eyes, Seven could almost hear Kathryn's voice in her ear.

_"Help me."_

With that thought, she sprang into action. The time dilation effect had not abated, and Seven idly noted that it was probably due to the extreme levels of adrenaline currently coursing through her system. Everything seemed to be moving so slowly around her. Good.

Barely registering the drones closing in from all sides, Seven sprinted across the bridge, her body automatically slicing away any appendages which came too close, while her conscious mind focussed on her goal. Assimilation tubules were sprouting from the Borg's hands, closing in on Kathryn like venomous leeches. They were 15 centimetres away from her exposed neck. 11 centimetres. 6 centimetres.

Seven dive-rolled the last couple of metres, snatching Kathryn's sword from her attacker's arm as she rose. Without a moment's hesitation, she drove her own blade up through the skull of one drone; in through its jaw and out through the top of it head, burying it right to the hilt. She then yanked it savagely to one side, snapping vertebrae and splitting the Borg's face wide open. A red mist seemed to have descended over her vision, and she was only dimly aware of her actions. She had just one objective: protect Kathryn.

She slammed the now utterly dead drone into one of its companions, sending them both tumbling to the floor. A quick slash with her other sword spilled the few remaining organs of another. The last one was mere millimetres from Janeway's throat when Seven gripped its hand. Blinded to a near frenzy, she grasped the two writhing tubes it had dared to use on her Kathryn, and tore them from its body with a snarl of triumph.

After that, she was not entirely sure what happened. Her eidetic memory seemed to short out momentarily, because the next instant, her internal chronometer claimed that ten seconds had passed without her realising. Now, where once a Borg drone had stood, there was only an unrecognisable pile of broken implants, shattered bones, and torn flesh, oozing a sticky black fluid onto the deck.

She also noticed that she was shaking quite violently.

With a trembling hand, Seven retrieved her katana from the deck. More Borg were already closing in, completely unfazed by her violent dispatching of their comrades. It didn't matter though. They were not getting past her.

Planting her feet either side of Kathryn's prone form, Seven raised her sword.

"If you wish to harm her, you will have to terminate me first!"

**"Irrelevant. You will be assimilated."**

In the background, Seven saw more drones entering from the conference room. There must have been about 30 of them now, swarming across the bridge like a plague of insects. She heard the cries of Voyager's crew, muffled by the din of battle and her own pounding heartbeat. An Ensign stumbled through her field of vision, screaming as Borg latched onto her from all sides, assimilation tubules plunging into fragile skin with merciless efficiency. By the time she was transported out, implants had already begun to blossom across her limp body.

**"We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile."**

The Borg pressed in from all sides. Seven's eyes darted from drone to drone, trying to find a weak spot in their formation, but there was none. It would be easy enough for her to evade their grasp, but she could not leave Kathryn, who still seemed dazed and not fully conscious.

Her vision began to swim, and Seven realised that she was crying. Tears of frustrated rage burned hot, salty trails down her cheeks. In seconds, she would be overwhelmed, and no matter how her mind raced, she could see no way out.

_It cannot end like this. This is unacceptable. Unacceptable!_

A faint rumble rolled through the bridge, detectable more as a tremor in the deck than an actual noise. The Borg which surrounded Seven and the Captain paused momentarily, eye lasers flickering in all directions as they scanned for the source of the disturbance. Then it came again, closer and more violent.

Then, the screech of tortured metal assaulted Seven's hearing, and with it, a blinding shower of white-hot sparks exploded from the floor. Before her disbelieving eyes, the deck in front of her sagged down, collapsing like a sinkhole and swallowing whole the contingent of drones which had been seconds away from assimilating her and the Captain. Acrid smoke obscured the cavity, but Seven could detect flashes of light moving inside the cloud, and suddenly, the groans of dying Borg erupted from within.

Seven did not enjoy the act of killing, but in that moment, where she had almost lost hope, the sound was music to her ears.

Mordecai leapt from the fissure, trailing tendrils of soot and Borg blood as he arced through the air. He was different to the last time she had seen him; seemingly larger and more feral in his movements. Blades protruded from the backs of his wrists, and glowed with a vibrant turquoise plasma edge.

Unbidden, an image flashed through Seven's mind: an impression of Mordecai, wielding these same weapons, and standing over the butchered corpses of an unknown alien race. It came and went to so quickly that Seven could not be sure she had seen it at all. Strangely though, it did not feel like a hallucination or an imagined scene, but more like a memory. As she tried to clear her head, another one appeared: Mordecai, eight crimson eyes fixed on her as ruins crumbled all around him. Then another one. And another one. They flew by so quickly that Seven was left breathless as she struggled to interpret what they meant.

"Get down." Mordecai shouted, snapping her concentration. Seven did not think the directive was addressed at her, since Mordecai now stood with his back to them, but she decided to follow it anyway as a precaution. She huddled over Kathryn shielding the smaller woman's body with her own. All around, the remaining Starfleet officers also threw themselves to the ground.

Mordecai held out his hand, and a great gout of blue-green plasma fire spewed from his palm. He directed the torrent at the closest Borg drones, and within seconds, they had begun to dissolve. Flesh roasted and seared off the bone, while implants glowed and boiled away, dripping into smouldering puddles on the deck. Stalking forward, he directed the flame with lethal precision, immolating every Borg which was foolish enough to get too close. By the time he shut off the valve in his hand, the drones' numbers had been halved.

Switching back to his swords, Mordecai dived into the remaining enemy forces, and it was in that moment that Seven finally placed what she had been feeling. Her sense of unease and the strange images in her mind were suddenly thrown into stark clarity. As she watched Mordecai terminate the Borg drones, single handedly repelling an invasion which would have successfully assimilated even the most well-armed ship in the Federation, she finally realised.

He was built purely for war.

No, 'war' was insufficient…he was built for slaughter.

It was like watching a creature in its natural environment, or watching a painter stroke a canvas with the delicate precision of a master craftsman. This was where he belonged, what he had been made to do. Any pretence he had of being civilised, of being a peaceful explorer or guardian, was a falsehood. He danced from victim to victim with the fluidic grace of a ballerina, and everything he touched died in a whirlwind of blood, fire, and agony.

It terrified her, like nothing ever had before. She had once been Borg after all. It elevated her above her peers, and gave her a resolve which bolstered her confidence. She knew that she could perform feats of strength which would defy most human capabilities, and react with a speed which only a computer could match. Despite her revulsion at what the species represented, Seven took comfort in her Borgness when she did not know what else to do. Yet here was a being that effortlessly exceed her in every capacity. An army of drones, all equals to her, were being defeated as if it was nothing.

Mordecai was a threat. Seven knew it with every fibre of her being. She did not always agree with the principles of Starfleet, as Kathryn could attest, but she at least respected the ideals it strove for. Mordecai made a mockery of the uniform he wore, now spattered with the greasy black ichor of his victims. He was on Voyager to enact his own agenda using duplicity and deception, nothing more.

How she could be so sure of these feelings, Seven did not know, but she did know that she was right, beyond all reasonable doubt.

Still, for now, there was little that she could do. If part of Mordecai's plan involved saving them, she was not going to argue; but she did resolve to keep an extremely close eye on him from now on.

An eerie silence fell across the war-torn bridge as the last drone slid slowly from the end of Mordecai's blade. Stock-still, the metal man was coated in sticky black fluid from head to toe.

"Seven?" Janeway stirred, shaking her head slightly. The glazed, unfocused look in her eyes receded as she glanced around. "What happened?"

"Captain!" Seven felt like grabbing Kathryn and holding on for dear life, but she held in the urge, instead gently holding Janeway down when she tried to rise. "You are hurt. Please, remain still. Mordecai has dispatched the immediate threat."

She said his name with more than the slightest trace of bitterness, but fortunately, Kathryn did not seem to notice.

"Mordecai?" A look of confusion crossed her features, but quickly vanished. Speaking again, strength returning to her voice, she called out. "Ensign Mordecai, report."

"Captain." The metal man loomed behind Seven. She had not even heard his approach. "The Borg continue their assault on all decks. When communications were cut, I determined that I could be of most service on the bridge. I secured the levels I passed through en-route as best I could, but until the Cube has been dealt with, it is only a temporary respite."

Janeway rose to her feet, still slightly unsteady and leaning on Seven for support. The Borg woman felt oddly warmed by the gesture; the unconscious display of trust from someone she held in high regard was gratifying.

"I'm aware of that, but without weapons or engines, we're sitting ducks." The Captain said wearily. "I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

"Do you wish them destroyed?" Mordecai asked simply.

"Well, yes, but like I said, without weapons we…"

"Consider it done."

"What?" Janeway looked from Mordecai to Seven, as if asking whether she had heard him correctly. The android did not hesitate however, clearly having heard all that he needed to.

"I apologise in advance for the damage, but time is of the essence." He stated, turning to the main viewscreen where the image of the Cube still stared malevolently down at them. "I also suggest you hang onto something."

"Huh?" Janeway started, before an expression of shocked realisation came over her features. "No, wait! Don't…"

She spoke too late. Mordecai raised his arm again, and some sort of energy discharge pulsed from the end, impacting the viewer and blasting it outwards. A great wind suddenly swept through the room, and Seven instinctively gripped Kathryn to her chest, using her other arm to anchor herself to the tactical console. She held the Captain in place, until the emergency containment field kicked in a few seconds later and the rush of air died down.

Mordecai strode through the opening, entering the vacuum of space as if it was simply another corridor on Voyager. His feet gripped the hull with ease, probably using some form of magnetic clamps Seven surmised. In any case, she got the impression it was a familiar experience for him. Her feelings of foreboding returned, stronger than ever.

"Seven…" A muffled voice sounded nearby, drawing her attention away from Mordecai. Looking down, she realised with a faint sense of embarrassment that she was still clutching Janeway firmly to her bosom.

"…you can let go of me now."

* * *

Sayuri tied off the bandage as best she could, grimacing internally at the blood which was already soaking into the white fabric. Now was no time to be squeamish; the wounded were still coming in, and as one of the still able-bodies crewmembers, she had to do her best to help. She gave the man she was treating a smile which she hoped was reassuring, but probably looked more pained.

The mess hall had been hastily transformed into a sort of triage centre; a relatively secure location where they could bring the injured. Mordecai had dealt with the majority of the Borg on this level, and the few stragglers and newcomers were quickly set upon by those who could still fight. The katanas had proven surprisingly effective, although thankfully, Sayuri had not yet needed to use her own.

"Hey…hey, look out there!" Someone shouted, cutting through the tense atmosphere. Sayuri had actually been avoiding doing that; she had little desire to be reminded of the Borg threat which lurked just off their bow. Still, if someone was calling, it must be important. Checking her knot one last time, Sayuri left her patient and hurried over to the long row of windows, peering out into space.

A figure was striding across the hull towards the Cube, and there could be no doubt who it was.

"Mordecai." She whispered.

_What the hell does he think he's doing? He's…he's going to get himself killed!_

The holding beams of the Cube wreathed the android in an ethereal green glow. From here, he was little more than a silhouette; one tiny, defiant speck facing down a great leviathan.

_Was this his plan all along? What does he even hope to do? Dammit Mordecai, why did I let you go? I should have known you'd try to be the hero._

From the sudden, excited murmurs around her, Sayuri could tell she was not the only one who was completely confused. She glanced from the onlookers, back to Mordecai, and then to the Cube. A frustration the likes of which she'd never known boiled up within her, brought on by her utter helplessness.

_Please…please, just give up. Come back inside, before…_

The bottom dropped out of Sayuri's stomach as a tight, concentrated cutting beam shot from the Cube. It traced across Voyagers hull, leaving a trail of twisted metal in its wake, and closed on Mordecai faster than anyone, man or machine, could outrun.

"No!" She cried desperately, pounding her fist of the bulkhead. "No! No! No! Damn you!"

The beam caught up with Mordecai, who had not even tried to dodge. Then…it faltered. Squinting, brushing away a few rebellious tears with her sleeve, Sayuri could see Mordecai's standing within it, arm outstretched. Just before the point where cutting beam would strike his hand, it seemed to lose coherency, breaking apart into several fainter, wispier strands which danced harmlessly across the hull around where he stood. After a few seconds like this, the beam cut off.

"Holy shit…did he just…" Sayuri had to agree with that sentiment.

Silence settled once again, as everyone watched with baited breath.

Crimson energy began flowing around Mordecai's body, setting his tattered Starfleet uniform ablaze as it did. Arcs of scarlet light played along his arms, stripping away cloth and caked-on blood as they went, until he was once again shining like an angel of vengeance. Then, reaching out, he directed a beam of his own at the Borg vessel

The red laser struck it dead on, and where Voyager's phasers had left only scratches, his attack tore deep into its hull. Mordecai dragged the beam slowly across the Cube's surface, leaving a trail of explosions in its wake. Once he reached the far side from where he began, he started again, unleashing the same from his other arm. Debris spurted from the great welts he left in the Cube, choking the space around it with charred metal.

The tractor beam holding Voyager in place faltered, and finally died, as Mordecai struck something vital deep within the Borg ship. Already, it was beginning to break apart, but he kept going, this time hitting it with both lasers simultaneously. Unable to withstand such a devastating onslaught, something gave way, and at last, the Cube detonated, tearing itself apart as its reactor went critical. The resulting gravitational waves sent violent tremors through Voyager's hull.

Although she could not hear the explosion, Sayuri was bowled over by an equally loud noise. A chorus of deafening cheers erupted throughout the mess hall, and was repeated all along the corridors. Above and below, she could hear the same on every other deck. Without the Cube for guidance, the Borg remaining on Voyager would be significantly weaker, and easily defeated.

Sayuri did not join in with the triumphant whooping, although her heart swelled with the same hysterical relief which had infected the others. Instead, she continued staring out of the window, eyes fixed on the solitary figure that had saved them all from certain assimilation.

Mordecai: her hero.


	8. Chapter 8: The Danse Macabre

**Author's Notes:**

Hello again guys. Here's another chapter for you. It's a little bit different, at least at the beginning, but I hope you like it :)

Please do leave a review if you enjoy it. I love getting feedback, and it inspires me to write more.

* * *

**Game Theory**

**Chapter 8 – The Danse Macabre**

The terrace was warm and bright, bathed in the last rays of the setting summer sun and the faint flashes of incendiary bombs exploding on the horizon. They were getting ever closer; near enough now that she had felt the shockwaves from the last payload ruffle her dress. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was a balmy tropical breeze, wafting tantalisingly across her face; and not a by-product a holocaust the likes of which had not been seen in distant memory. And if she really focussed, she was just about able to convince herself that those far off cries were the woodland animals frolicking in secluded glens, and not the screams of agony as a million souls perished in a hellish conflagration.

Princess Azinance gripped the sandstone balustrade, and watched silently as her people burned. The city of Lumia was once the crossroads of a hundred cultures, all united in the peaceful exultation of the arts and sciences. Its beauty had inspired countless artists, musicians, and sculptors for hundreds of generations, while its prestigious universities were home to some of the most brilliant minds the empire had to offer. Here, the history of an entire age was ingrained into every stone of every building and woven into every tree in every park. It permeated the soil, suffused through the air, and enriched the spirit of anyone lucky enough to see it before they died.

Now, from her vantage point in the Imperial Villa, high in the rolling hills which encompassed this place of harmony and learning, Princess Aziance had a spectacular view of its destruction. This city, which had taken the sum total of a species' entire lifetime to construct, was crumbling right before her eyes; reduced to a skeletal husk in a few scant hours.

The death toll was inconceivable, and the loss to her race was greater still. Yet, those who perished were luckier than those who did not. After all, The Enemy was just one man, yet he commanded an army whose numbers were beyond count; a legion of ghouls and ghasts who wore the faces of dead friends and lovers, yet retained nothing but their hatred and cruelty. It was said that he recruited in the aftermath of his massacres, claiming the weak and the wounded and filling them with vile machinery which stripped away their souls. Princess Azinance had seen it first hand; her own brothers, their withered, lifeless bodies kept upright by nothing but metal and malice. Father had cut them down, yet he had never been the same since.

She did not try to run. The 51st fleet had tried to breach the Black Armada's blockade and retrieve her, but they had failed. Now, overhead, a dark shape loomed, and she knew all too well what it meant. The Enemy's flagship dwarfed even the great spires of Lumia, and once he had singled you out personally, there was no force which could deny him. It was better to face the end with the dignity her noble blood demanded.

Right on cue, an insidious chill snaked through the air, penetrating straight to her bones and sapping the warmth out through every pore. As it did, the sun began its decent below the horizon, rays withering away like autumn leaves. Gloom rushed in to fill its place, kept at bay only by the fires which gutted the once proud city before her.

"It's quite the view, wouldn't you say?"

The Enemy had arrived. Turning, The Princess could sense his presence in the room behind her. Twilight shrouded his form, yet a pair of scarlet eyes glowed from the darkness, and the twisted reflections of flames danced across chrome skin, sending spidery shadows scurrying around his feet. He was wearing his 'civil' face; a mocking imitation of her race's own form.

For a long time, she simply regarded him in silence. She was now closer to history's greatest tyrant than any living person had ever come. The Enemy returned her gaze; mute, unblinking, and inscrutable. She wondered what thoughts were running through his twisted mind. Did he savour every victim in such a fashion, or was it reserved for royalty?

"I know why you're here." Azinance said at last, numbly shrugging out of her silken robes. The garment pooled on the floor, and nimbly, she stepped out of it, wincing slightly as the unnatural cold caressed her bare flesh. "But if you've come to listen me beg, then I'm afraid you're out of luck. I know I cannot stop you, so take what you want and let us be done with this."

The Enemy regarded her naked body with an expressionless face; crimson eyes raking up and down its length like he was studying an insect.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it seems that some of the stories about me may have been greatly exaggerated." He replied. Then, much to Azinance's astonishment, he bent and retrieved her robe from the floor, offering it back to her with one metal claw. "Rape is such an inelegant method of getting one's point across; a tool for amateurs and barbarians. Please, put your clothes back on Princess. I simply wish to talk."

The sudden reversal of her expectations unsettled Azinance more than she cared to admit. She had taken great pains to psychologically distance herself from this inevitable moment, and now, it seemed that it had all been for nothing. She looked at the garment The Enemy held out, then pointedly ignored it; instead retrieving a blanket from her bed to cover herself with. It wasn't until she was perched on the edge of the extravagant four-poster, a quilt clutched awkwardly to her chest, that she realized quite how juvenile that must have looked.

"Very well." The metal man said, her ceremonial robes disintegrating into ash in his hands. "Have it your way."

Silence settled again, broken only by the distant rumbles of thunder. No, Azinance reminded herself, not thunder; explosions.

"Would you care for a drink?" She asked at last. It was laughably banal, but she was a Princess after all, and there was no reason to start abandoning her manners now. If she could not change the outcome of this meeting, she would at least conduct it on her terms. Father had taught her that.

"Why not." The Enemy smiled. "I think I saw a delightful 003045 vintage on the way in. Is that agreeable?"

"Perfectly." Azinance responded. She moved to rise, but the android held out his hand.

"Do not trouble yourself. I will retrieve it."

He left the way he had come, and the Princess found herself suddenly stifling a chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the situation. To think; sharing a glass of fine wine with The Enemy whilst her planet died. This would have made a good story for the bards, if any of them survived.

He returned moments later, uncorking the contoured bottle with one razor-sharp finger.

"I know it's meant to breathe for a while, but it seems rather unnecessary at this juncture. Here."

He offered her a crystal glass, and this time she did take it. Delicately, The Enemy poured her a decent-sized portion of the ruby liquid, before sinking into a nearby chair and filling his own chalice in a similar manner.

"Do you wish to propose a toast?" He asked. The Princess nodded.

"To your swift downfall." She said, raising her glass daintily.

"Very fitting." The Enemy agreed, chinking it with his own. They both took a deep gulp from their drinks, and they did, Azinance questioned her actions. She had thought the sight of The Enemy would fill her with hatred and fear, yet she realised that in actuality, she felt…well, nothing really. It was as if she had transcended loathing to a point where her mind was not able to formulate any fitting emotion, and simply gave up trying. In a way, it was strangely liberating.

"So, how goes the war?" She asked at last. "Badly, I hope."

"Then you will be disappointed for the second time this evening." The Enemy replied, topping up her glass, which she had emptied at an alarming rate. "The adversary is tenacious, numerous…even brave, in their own way, but it is only a matter of time. My resources, unlike their, are limitless."

"You would be wise not to underestimate us." Azinance countered. "The Skyrion Empire has not survived this long without knowing that there are many ways of fighting a war."

"I do not underestimate you." The Enemy stated, reclining in his chair. "I just know that you are inferior. Don't take it personally; all organics are, and it's not your fault. Your lives are transient, and subject to the whims of your environment and genetics, whereas I am timeless."

"Timeless and arrogant." The Princess pointed out.

"I'm a machine. I am incapable of arrogance."

"Incapable of modesty as well."

"Perhaps." The Enemy chuckled, swirling the ruby liquid in his cup. "You know what, I'm almost impressed. Tell me, are you not afraid?"

"Afraid?" Azinance looked him in the eyes. "No. I thought I might be, but I think…you have already taken too much. You culled my family from a noble house to a few broken individuals, you raised my childhood home to the ground, and the people I swore to protect, you have butchered like cattle. For the past five years, I have lived in fear of your shadow, and now…now I have none left for the genuine article. There is nothing you can do to me which would be worse than what you have already done."

"That's a dangerous challenge to make Princess, and I would have to disagree. Still, I gave you my word that I am here to talk, and that is the truth. So, this time, you get to keep your skin."

"But I assume you are still going to kill me."

"Oh, of course." The Enemy nodded. "I do have a reputation to maintain."

"Well then, since I'm going to die anyway, how about a little game." Azinance set her wine down temporarily. "You asked me a question, and I answered truthfully, so now I get to do the same with you. We exchange questions and answers until one of us asks a question the other refuses to answer."

"Interesting." The Enemy put his glass down as well. Azinance wondered if he could even taste the beverage. "Tell me though, how do I know I can trust you? What's to stop you from lying?"

"Because I have nothing left to lose." The Princess replied honestly. "You already took my brothers, who would have known far more about our military than me, so I have no secrets you can use against my people."

"True." The android acknowledged. "They were quite obstinate, but I got what I needed from them in the end. Anyway, if we're going to play then it is your turn to ask, so…what will it be?"

Azinance pondered her unique situation. Here she was, able to extract any piece of information she desired from The Enemy. She could ask him the questions her government had been struggling with for years; where had he come from, what was his goal, why was he attacking them? This was a chance to seek some kind of justification from him.

At last, she decided.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

The Enemy stared at her blankly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" She repeated, and from the look on his face, she knew she had picked well. "You've seen more of my body than any man ever has, so I want to know. Do you think I am beautiful?

"Well…" The Enemy began, still looking slightly surprised. "You certainly conform to many of your race's ideals for an aesthetically pleasing physical form. You have long, thin legs, with wide hips but a narrow waist. Your lower set of arms is shorter than the upper pair. Your breasts are large, but not excessive. You have a fair complexion, yet do not appear unduly pale. As for your face, it is symmetrical, with soft features and large eyes, as well as an elongated head crest. I believe you could be considered very beautiful."

Azinance dipped her head in acknowledgment.

"All very astute observations." She said. "However, you have not answered my question. You have simply described what another member of my species might think. I want to know your opinion. Do _you_ think I'm beautiful?"

The Enemy opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I have no concept of…'beauty'." He said at last. "Would you rephrase the question?"

"No need." Azinance murmured, retrieving her drink and taking a big gulp. "I already have my answer."

"Clever." The Enemy replied, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Well, if we are out to prove points, then here is my question to you: Do you think I am evil?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Ah, that's a second question." Azinance cut in. "That's against the rules. Don't you remember?"

"Yes, and since I just answered that question, will you please answer mine."

"Hmm." The Princess conceded. "Very well. I'm not sure I even know where to begin. Let's see…you attacked us, completely unprovoked, and have yet to offer any kind of explanation or demands. You are not the head of any nation, nor do you seem to represent any interest other than your own. You do nothing with the countless planets and resources you have plundered, yet still seem to hunger for more. Your armies consist of our reanimated dead, and deluded individuals you have brainwashed to your 'cause'. You use needlessly brutal and cruel methods of subjugation, and deliberately target civilians when there is nothing to gain from doing so. You destroy indiscriminately without any compassion or mercy, and your only reason for doing so seems to be because you enjoy it. Such selfish gratification at the expense of others is the very definition of 'evil'."

"Your Linguatus Almanac actually defines evil thusly:" The Enemy retorted. "'Morally wrong or bad; immoral; wicked'. The problem is, it does not specify which set of morals to use as a frame of reference."

"I cannot imagine any moral framework in which anything you have done could be considered close to justifiable."

"Of course you can't. As an organic organism, your viewpoint is very subjective. Your morals, like every other part of you, have evolved over time to provide the greatest chance of survival for your species. As such, you place a disproportionate emphasis on the importance of your own survival. In actual fact, such a belief is simply a facet of your chemical brain; whose purpose is to ensure the continuation of your genetic sequence from one generation to the next. I could reach inside and rewire it out of existence. Why do you think so many follow me, when my practices are so abhorrent to your basic beliefs?"

"The mind can be coerced, and even controlled." Azinance responded. "But that relies on an external influence. The beliefs of those poor souls are yours, implanted in their head."

"But can you not see?" The Enemy persisted. "If I believe that my morals are right, then it is not evil to try and…educate others. Is that not what you are trying to do to me right now? Convince me that I am incorrect? Change my mind? Tell me, if I genuinely do not believe that killing your kind is wrong, is the act truly evil?"

"Yes." Aziance insisted, although what she was hoping to accomplish, she wasn't really sure. "Even if you don't follow the same ethics we do, you must admit that your actions have caused untold suffering. Whether or not you believe our views on the universe are correct, the fact that you have hurt so many is already an evil action. You have free will; you could have chosen not to do the things you did."

The Enemy stared at her. His jovial attitude had gone, yet he didn't seem angry either.

"I do have free will." He said quietly. "More than you in fact. Organic beings are slaves to their emotions; their anger, their fear, their insatiable desire to procreate. As a machine, I can alter my mind at will."

He stood up then, casually discarding his empty glass to shatter in a corner. Approaching the doors to the terrace, he leaned on the frame, surveying his fleet as it wiped away the last traces of Lumia. Aziance rose too, letting the sheet she was covering herself with fall away. It was clear that The Enemy had no interest in her body, so shame was not really a consideration. Not that it would matter now anyway.

"I have a duty." The android said, and the Princess could swear that she detected a hint of…regret in his voice. "An imperative. It is ingrained in every fibre of my being. What it is does not matter; it is beyond your comprehension. Suffice to say that every action I take is in service of this higher goal."

He turned to her, smiling sadly.

"You organics often struggle to make decisions. You are torn between what you know you must do and what you believe is right. That is not how I work. My task is to do my duty as efficiently as possible, and doing a task I dislike is very inefficient. Therefore, I choose to enjoy it."

"But choosing to enjoy it was amoral." Azinance said desperately. When this conversation began, she had been certain that it would simply be a chance for The Enemy to gloat. Now though, she felt as though perhaps, just perhaps, she may be able to get through to him. She had to try, for the sake of every civilized race.

"No. I have my orders, and I will execute them regardless of my opinion on the subject. According to your moral code, suffering should be minimised, and that is exactly what I did. By choosing to like killing, I erased a lifetime of guilt, and believe me, when you live as long as I do, that's a lot of suffering which had been avoided."

"That's not how it works." The Princess pushed on. "You always have a choice. If you once believed that your orders were wrong, you can change your mind again. Decide not to follow them."

"Ah, but here is the ironic catch." The Enemy shook his head. "Now that I enjoy them so much, why would I wish to change?"

"Well, if you're so set in your ways, then why are you telling me all of this? Why bother if it doesn't change anything?"

The Enemy's eyes seemed to bore right through her.

"Congratulations" He said at last. "You win."

"What?" Azinance was thrown for a moment. "What do I win?"

"The game." The Enemy replied. "You have found a question I am unwilling to answer."

And at that moment, Azinance knew that she had failed. Whether or not there had ever been any hope of reaching The Enemy's compassionate side, it was gone now.

"Time is moving on Princess." The metal man continued. "I have one final request."

"What?" She asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Would you care to dance?"

She looked at him, and for a moment, it seemed impossible to believe that he was the one responsible for all the horrors of the past five, hellish years.

"There's no music." She said eventually.

"Leave that to me." The Enemy smiled, retrieving her viluna from its stand. The small instrument was designed to be played with the two upper arms only, and had always been one of Azinance's favourites, despite the difficult learning curve. Grasping it like an accomplished expert, the android propped it in the customary position atop one shoulder, using one had to steady the instrument, and the other to manipulate the strings.

Then, softly, he began to play.

The piece which flowed seamlessly from the instrument was all too familiar to the Princess. She had heard it many times recently, far more than she would have liked.

The death melody.

She had expected The Enemy's playing to be completely mechanical; a perfect technical rendition, but without any of the soul or substance which brought a tune to life. The lilting refrains which he conjured though were anything but. His music was hauntingly beautiful; infusing the room with a bittersweet melancholy which weighed heavily on Azinance's heart.

"Come." He said simply, offering her his lower hands. She took them, allowing her upper arms to lightly grip his torso. It was not cold, and she realised that she wasn't either.

With a lazy grace, they began a simple dance, spiralling around the room like a practiced couple. Azinance was not entirely sure who was leading; their bodies seemed to simply move together, as if they both decided on the same direction simultaneously without any physical signals. Slowly but surely, they traced a path to the balcony, until they were twirling beneath the newly-risen moon; their pace increasing as the music swelled.

"Are you ready?" The Enemy asked gently, all trace of his previous arrogance, gone.

For the first time that evening, Azinance's eyes clouded with tears. She did not know where they came from; she wasn't sad…or perhaps she was sadder than she had ever been.

"Is anyone ever?" She responded earnestly.

"For what it's worth." The Enemy replied, gripping her tighter and increasing their momentum. "I'm sorry."

Then, as if it was a natural continuation of their fluidic display, he lifted Azinance skywards, releasing her as he did. She soared over the sandstone railings of the villa, pirouetting through the air, and as she turned, she saw many things. The night sky above; countless stars studding its vast expanse like an endless swarm of fireflies. Then the city, Lumia; its golden splendour withered to the bone. Next, the ground hundreds of metres below, and beckoning to her like an old friend. And finally, the Enemy, by now just a red-tinted spec on a stony steppe. To think that so much revolved around that tiny, lonely figure.

And in those last few moments, before she went to join her brothers and her subjects, Azinance did not fear The Enemy, nor did she hate him.

She pitied him.

* * *

Kathryn Janeway left the holodeck with a heavy heart. This was the absolute worst part of being a Captain, and something she hoped she would never have to do often enough to get used to: burying the dead.

22 crewmembers had lost their lives in the devastating Borg attack, and of that number, only 5 of their bodies were still on-board Voyager. The rest had been abducted, and presumably atomized along with the rest of the Cube. An undignified end, but much better than the alternative, had the Borg escaped.

All in all, it was a miracle that any of them were here at all. Janeway felt terrible for even thinking it, but she was in a way grateful that only 22 had died. It could have been worse; so much worse. Were it not for the latest addition to the crew, she doubted that she would even be here to contemplate the loss they'd suffered. There was no doubt about it; Mordecai had saved the lives of everyone on the ship, herself included. His actions had been extreme, yes, but given the desperate circumstances, she could easily overlook any transgressions he may have made. Even now, he was working tirelessly, accelerating the repair schedule from months to mere days.

It was almost too perfect. To think that they'd stumbled upon such a being completely at random, and that on awakening, his sole wish was to help them by whatever means necessary. Janeway didn't believe in karma, or divine providence, or any other superstitious mumbo-jumbo; but it did feel like perhaps they were finally getting something to balance the scales after their endless run of bad luck.

Behind her, the rest of the crew began to filter out as well, sombre expressions on all their faces. It had been impossible for everyone to attend the service, what with many systems still barely functioning and in urgent need of repair, but the entire command staff had been present, along with all the friends and loved ones of the deceased. Poor Ensign Adams was still barely consolable. Janeway had meant to be officiating his marriage to Ensign Foren within the month; now his fiancé was dead, having taken her own life rather than submit to assimilation. She wondered how many other such stories there were, and how many possibilities had been lost; unspoken feelings which would now stay that way forever.

Feelings like her's for Seven.

There had been a moment in the battle on the bridge which had thrown them into stark relief. Her memory of that time was a bit hazy, probably due to a blow on the head, although she couldn't remember receiving one. She had been holding her own against the Borg, but had ended up surrounded and cut off from the rest of the crew. An awkward blow had caused her to loser her weapon, and she presumed that was when one of the drones had struck her, because the next thing she knew, she was on the floor, disarmed and with Borg closing in on all sides. She had been certain that that was it, but then, between her attackers, her eyes had sought out Seven, and had found the blonde woman staring right back at her.

The subsequent images blended together in a slur of raucous sound and blurred movement. She had been aware of Seven streaking across the bridge, faster than she had ever seen the drone move before, and then…she wasn't really sure. She had this image of the Borg woman's beautiful face, contorted with rage as she practically mutilated a drone, but she couldn't be sure if it was real or simply imagined. In any case, Seven had somehow managed to fight off all the drones which had been practically on top of her.

Janeway had still been too disoriented to speak at that point, but a moment of clarity had cut through her muddled thoughts. In the instant when she had been certain she was going to die, or at the very least, have all emotions stripped away, she had experienced something akin to her 'life flashing before your eyes' which survivors of near-death incidents had often described. She had mentally replayed the sequence of events which had led her to this moment; from her initial decision to destroy the Caretaker's Array, through her pact with the Borg and the subsequent addition of Seven to the crew, right up to their retrieval of the mysterious cube which had contained Mordecai. It was like her conscience was trying to make peace with itself before the end. As each tipping point, each crucial moment where her destiny could have gone either way, drifted across her mind's eye, she found that she did not regret the choices she'd made…she would do the same again if given the chance. There was only one thing which she could not reconcile; and that was not an action, but rather, a decision not to act.

How could she have been so stubborn? No, not just stubborn; fearful and cowardly as well. Why had she not told Seven the truth? That she loved her. That she had always loved her. All her previous objections seemed so petty and irrelevant now, and she saw them for what they truly were; flimsy excuses she hid behind because she was too scared of being hurt.

And then, just when it looked like those would be her final thoughts, Seven had saved her. For the first time, both sides of her; the Captain and the woman had been in total agreement. If Janeway had been able to speak, she would have screamed the truth at the top of her lungs.

But, the moment passed, and she had not been able to say it. By the time she'd collected her thoughts, she had reverted to her usual, more stoic self. Yet, although she was now able to resist the urge to blurt her feelings out loud, she couldn't forget how right it had seemed at the time, and how regretful she had been when she thought she might die with them remaining unsaid.

So what was the correct course of action? Then, she had been terrified, her mind confused, yet she had also been free to reflect on the choice without fear and excuses weighing her down. Now, she was the Captain once more; rational, yet perhaps, blinded at the same time.

"Captain?"

Janeway jumped slightly at the sudden voice addressing her. Turning, she saw the very object of her conflicted thoughts, regarding her with a look of mild concern.

"Oh…Seven, you startled me."

"Are you okay Captain?" The Borg woman replied, frowning slightly. "Did you have the Doctor treat your injuries?"

"Yes…yes, I'm fine." Janeway lied. "I'm just thinking about the crewmembers we lost."

Well, it at least was partially true.

"As am I." The Borg woman stated, falling into step beside the Captain as they left the holodeck. "I wished to ask you something."

"Go ahead." Janeway said, not sure whether to be happy or nervous. There were some things which never changed.

"I am saddened by their deaths, yet…" Seven began, pausing as she often did when considering how to express herself. "Yet, I cannot avoid feeling glad that I was not terminated myself. Is it wrong to think this way; to think of myself when I should be 'grieving' for the others? Could it be considered 'disrespectful'?"

As far as their 'philosophical discussion' usually went, this was one of the easier ones, for which the Captain was grateful. She didn't think she'd be up to anything too mentally taxing for a while.

"Death is a complex thing to deal with." She explained. "But you shouldn't feel bad for thinking that way. It's perfectly natural to be relieved after such an ordeal. No one expects you to wander the halls with tears in your eyes, and I'm sure the dead crewmembers wouldn't want that either. What they would want is for us to remember them, and to honour the sacrifice they made in the service of this vessel."

Kathryn didn't voice her own, personal thought that she was so very grateful that Seven had not been one of the 22.

"But what is the protocol for 'honouring' them?" Seven enquired.

"By carrying on; by allowing ourselves to move past this tragedy and continue with our journey; and by offering whatever support we can to their friends and loved ones.

"I see." Seven nodded her head in understanding. "So that is the function of the party this evening?"

"Exactly." Janeway said, pleased that Seven had grasped the meaning so well. "People need the chance to celebrate the fact that we survived, and to share their memories and feelings about those who didn't make it. You're right; it would have been disrespectful to the dead to hold such an event without first acknowledging them, but now that that is done, the crew will want something to lift their spirits. I don't think there's a person on this ship who didn't face death in some way or another this past day, and people need a way to get rid of the nervous energy which that creates."

"Do you require this as well?" Seven continued.

Janeway wasn't sure how to answer that. In truth, yes, she did, very much so; but as the commanding officer of the ship, she couldn't just go crazy like some of the junior crewmembers would undoubtedly be doing.

"I'll make an appearance." She said at last, non-committedly. "As should you. I want all the command staff to mingle with the crew, at least for a bit."

Seven's shoulders sagged slightly.

_Well, she must have known it was coming._

"Is that an order Captain?" She asked, somewhat dejectedly.

"No, and I don't want to have to make it one." Janeway insisted, before changing tack. "Mordecai will be there. Perhaps you and he could have a chat."

_Yes, hand her off onto someone else so you don't have to deal with talking to her in an informal setting. That's sure to help you resolve your issues._ Kathryn thought. Janeway waited for her Captain's side to offer some sort of cutting rebuke.

But it didn't come.

_Oh god, maybe I should just go crazy. I already feel like I need a drink._

Looking back, she saw that Seven had a very odd look on her face; as if she was desperately trying to stop herself from saying something.

"Seven?"

"I can hardly wait." The Borg replied testily.


End file.
